The Great Defense Attorney : Miles Edgeworth
by Katjae
Summary: Miles Edgeworth studies under his father and becomes a Defense Attorney as planned. Miles is somewhat of a prodigy, but as a Defense Lawyer, his deeds go mostly unaccredited except by the people he successfully defends in court. MilesxPhoenix eventually. Cross-posted from A03
1. Childhood Friends

_Chapter 1_

_Childhood Friends_

"My life is ovvveeeeeeeeeeeer!" Wailed a familiar and irritating voice. Gregory Edgeworth laughed but quickly excused himself.

"Quite the character, isn't he?"

_You do not know the half of it, Father, _Miles thought as he watched his childhood friend make a fool of himself. _That . . . is Larry Butz. One of my closest childhood friends that I adopted through no fault of my own._

"His trial is about to begin," Gregory stifled the last of his amusement, "Is there anyway we can quiet his shenanigans until after he is declared innocent?"

_If I learned that secret, Father, I would have utilized it long ago._

"I will see what I can do . . ." Miles said less than confidently.

_I work with my Father as his understudy. He is the best mentor I could ever have asked for. I have watched him in court since . . . I suppose 2001? Yes, around the time I became close with Larry and Phoenix._

_The first, or, one of the first times I watched my Father, an earthquake struck. It was very fortunate we took the stairs down, as we learned the elevators became inoperable for hours after the fact._

The trial finished without much of a fuss, even if Larry would not keep his mouth shut.

"I am glad that all worked out," Gregory smiled, "But, this is not your first hearing so I'm not too surprised. He still looks worse for wear, though."

"She's goooone! My life! Take it wiiiithh heeeeeeeeer!" He yowled like a dying animal.

_Larry. Can't you just appreciate our win and stop blubbering? _"Larry!" Miles yelled, becoming more and more agitated.

"Hahaha, you should treat your friends better, Miles." Gregory mentioned.

_My . . . friends. I defended someone in the school's poor rendition of a court, and he appreciated it. However . . ._

"Edgey!" Larry grabbed onto Miles' red suit and sobbed, "My life is over! Why is destiny soooo crueeel?"

"Pull yourself together, you nitwit!" Miles bent back and unlatched Larry's fingers from his clothing. Larry's tears were over the top dramatic and Miles felt like they were drawing negative attention. While he adjusted his blue bowtie, Miles requested, "Can we take this debacle outside and not disturb this courthouse any longer?"

"Come on, Mr. Butz," Gregory chuckled, "Let's go before Miles here has a coronary."

"He has a bird?" Larry misinterpreted, "That's so cool!"

"Just let him have it, Father. He has stopped his incessant crying at least."

"How about the three of us grab some lunch? I'll buy," Gregory offered. Larry looked at Gregory as if he were a saint. "You were friends with Phoenix, too, right Larry?"

"Oh. There's a name," Larry completely overturned his pathetic side off and frowned. _How long had it been since Larry or I last saw Phoenix? _

"Did you find anything out about him?" Miles asked his Father. _For a couple of years, Larry, Phoenix, and I hung out and worked on school projects together. Phoenix and I always shared a deeper and more meaningful bond, but . . . in 2003 . . ._

Gregory shook his head, "I am sorry, Miles. I still know as much as I did the last time you asked."

"Ah. My apologies, Father. I don't mean to keep bothering you about him."

Larry crossed his arms and shrugged, "Eh. Who cares about him? It's not like you or I ever left the area – if he really wanted to contact us, he woulda. Best to just forget all about him, huh?"

"Larry," Miles suggested with a stern look, "If you wish to continue being my friend, I would not say such idiocy. Understood?"

Larry shrugged, "Thank you for defending me, Edgey. But . . . well . . . my life hoooollddss noooo meeeaaaaaaaaaniiiinnng! My loooooove! She's goooooooone!"

"She dumped you! She never loved you to begin with!" Miles inhaled sharply. _This fool._

Gregory stepped in, "I think you're jumping to rash conclusions, Miles. There is evidence that the Miss Stone returned your feelings, Mr. Butz."

"There is?" Miles acknowledged flatly. _If there is, I could not give a care less._

"Part of your duty as a defense lawyer, Miles, is to comfort your client. So. Show Mr. Butz the proof of Miss Stone's returned feelings."

"Wh-what?" Miles stammered, "Father, you want me to . . .?"

Gregory nudged him forward, "He is your friend, right? You should be able to figure this one out easily enough."

"That cumbersome clock you made for her," Miles answered, deducing it immediately, "Even though she flew to another country and probably paid a small fortune in baggage, she took that thing with her."

"We need to work on your personable skills, Miles," Gregory sighed, "Did I really raise you to have such a sharp tongue? Well. Regardless. Mr. Butz, Miles is correct."

"Ohhh! I guess she really did looooove me!" He waved his arms around with giddy glee. Miles shook his head at the sight. _This fool_.

_In 2003 . . ._

_Phoenix and I worked on several paired projects; usually with Larry as a third partner, since no one else wanted to deal with his antics. Phoenix would always say, "Relax. This will be his only A for the quarter." Unless there was a presentation involved, we would try to give Larry something even he could handle while we carried the team._

_Something shifted in Phoenix, though. For months, he became more and more withdrawn. The smile and the motions were all there, but Phoenix's normal optimism was gone. He would start missing assignments – the teachers would scold him near daily._

_Phoenix eventually stopped doing any schoolwork and it led him to completely drop the ball on a group project. I prepared my section and the next day, he had done absolutely none of his. I had to improvise, and he seemed profoundly apologetic for it, but that resulted in the only low score I ever received._

_I knew there was something strange about it. I forgave him for it, somewhat begrudgingly. The next and last time we worked on a school project, he asked to come over to my house. He and I worked on our own parts and finished in good time, but after it was all said and done. . ._

_He fell asleep on the couch. _

_There was not anything too strange about the act as a single instance by itself – but he seemed tired for months. He would randomly fall asleep in class or would find a shady area in recess to close his eyes. Any time he could, he would sleep._

_I read a book while he napped next to me, but I could not focus on the words. I wanted to ask Phoenix what was wrong – I could tell something was. Every time I brought it up, however, he dodged the question and pretended to be his old self._

_It would never last for very long._

Gregory took the two friends to a nearby grill house. Larry seemed to get over his obsession with Cindy Stone and focused his attention on the 'cute waitress' who sat them – it was all he could talk about while they looked over the menu.

"I'll take whatever you recommend!" He panted after her in some odd way of trying to flirt. Miles could say something to ruin the moment, but Gregory already scolded him for being uncharitable toward his friend, so he just let it go.

After all the orders were in, Gregory said, "I have been thinking about Phoenix again, though. Since the three of you were close, I was wondering if you'd care to listen?"

Larry shrugged, "I mean, what's left to know? He moved away and hasn't tried to reach out in . . . what, thirteen years? Pretty positive we aren't going to see him again."

"The circumstances around him moving were not normal," Gregory mentioned with a frown. Miles raised an eyebrow – this was something he had not heard before. "Since chance brought the two of you together again, I thought now would be a good time to fill you two in."

"On what?" Miles asked.

"You were still really young, so we adults shielded the truth from the students. Even the two of you," Gregory took a sip of his tea and nodded, "You are adults now, so I feel like the truth no longer need be hidden."

Larry tilted his chair back and rocked on the hind legs, "Why would you keep something like that from us?"

"Sometimes . . . the human condition is capable of such cruelty that it best to conceal it from children."

"I don't get it," Larry pouted.

Miles felt slightly frustrated with his Father, whom he thought had no secrets to hide. "Did something happen to Phoenix?"

"It happened around him. Someone should have seen the signs sooner, in all honesty. In any case, Phoenix was forced to move since his parents could not raise him any longer."

"He was abused?" Miles asked. It would fit the clues as he remembered them.

Gregory stared into his tea, "Not . . . in its entirety. Though there was an element of that in play. I noticed it during those final days when he stayed at our house. Do you remember, Miles?"

"Of course. It was the last project we worked on." Miles thought about it, pulling the specifics of those few days.

"Father says you have to put your phone in the drawer until all homework is completed," Miles instructed Phoenix and Larry.

"Laaame!" Larry stuck his tongue out, "Right, Nick?"

"Hm?" Phoenix, who had stared at the floor until that moment, gave Larry a zombie like stare.

Larry stomped his foot, "Dude, what is wrong with you?"

"Just put your phones in the drawer. Cooperate, and you'll be able to play your games in no time," Miles commanded. Phoenix looked down at his phone and shrugged, placing it the drawer and retreating to the couch. Knowing what his share of the work would be, Phoenix started immediately.

"That guy's a mess," Larry laughed, then ran outside with his phone and sat under the tree. Miles sat his own phone in the drawer and joined Phoenix in the project. They were silent, with the only sound being pencils ticking against paper.

After some time passed, Phoenix put his pencil down and stated, "I'm done."

Miles looked up from his own work and took Phoenix's copy to review. "Looks good. You can go get your phone if you want."

"That's okay . . ." Phoenix nuzzled himself in the corner of the couch and gazed blankly at the wall.

"I can tune out the television if you want to watch something," Miles offered. Phoenix shook his head and let his eyes fall shut. _He wanted to sleep again._

Gregory came downstairs to cook dinner, when he noticed the drowsy guest. He pulled out a spare blanket and draped it over Phoenix. He whispered, "Did the project become too much for him?"

"I suppose so, Father." Miles studied Phoenix's resting face after completing his assignment. Even in sleep, his eyebrows tugged and creased. Gregory went to the kitchen area without another thought and opened a drawer. Miles pulled out a book but could not concentrate; he kept an eye on Phoenix through the guise of reading.

"Edgeworth speaking."

Miles looked up. He had not heard the house phone or cellphone ring.

"Hi. It's a good thing you called, I wanted to –"

His father was cut off abruptly. Miles could not make out what the other person said but could hear that they were yelling.

"No. Your son is studying with mine. Right. Right. I will make sure he gets home safely." Gregory looked at the phone in astonishment, then he proceeded to examine it. He was quiet for a few minutes. Speechless. He brought it up to his ear and listened while he walked away.

"Yo," Larry came in, "You gotta charger?"

"Wall," Miles pointed near the television. There were a few unused charger cords resting on an end table. Before Larry plugged it in, he said, "D'awww. Look who's asleep again! Hey! Missile! Wanna play fetch?"

The puppy wagged his tail excitedly, stretching and waking from his own nap. Larry plugged in his phone, grabbed a ball from the closet, then took the dog outside. _At least Larry's useful for something._

Gregory came back into the kitchen and wordlessly readied food. Soon, the smell of well-prepared Chinese lingered in the kitchen and the homecooked scent woke Phoenix from his catnap. Gregory eyed the child from the stove but said nothing. Yet.

Once the food was fully made, Gregory began to fix plates. He asked, "Is Larry still here?"

"He's outside," Miles answered. Gregory nodded and gave Miles and Phoenix theirs. He then went outside and called Larry in for dinner. The four plus Missile joined in the living area for supper. Larry gulped his down and said, "I gotta go! Mom needs help with the groceries! Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth!"

"Take care, Larry," He answered with a genuine smile. Phoenix watched Larry leave and decided to set his own plate down on the coffee table. He had picked at his food, but Gregory did not see him take a single bite. "No appetite, Phoenix?"

"I should probably go home, too." He said dejectedly.

"Hold on a moment. I wanted to ask you about something," Gregory said gently. Miles stayed silent, hoping his Father could get some answers out of his friend.

Phoenix did not move, but Gregory had to ask him, "I don't believe I saw your parents at the last few parent luncheons."

Phoenix shook his head, "Dad's usually at work."

"Sure. Of course. How is your mother doing?"

Phoenix inhaled and said, "She's been sick."

Gregory crossed one leg over the other, "I see. So. Your father is busy at work and your mother is ill. Is life at home stressful right now?"

"Mom can't do her normal house chores, so dad has me do them. He probably wants dinner now." Phoenix searched for a clock in the room as he said that.

"Your father is an adult. I am sure he can manage his own food for a night."

Phoenix flinched, "W-what time is it?"

Gregory watched Phoenix for a moment, then commended, "It's wonderful of you to take on your mother's responsibilities while she is unwell. But you still have to study hard and see your friends. Those responsibilities are important, too."

"I should probably go," He started to stand.

"Phoenix. Can you trust me a moment?" Gregory asked, leaning forward, "I promise I just want what's best for you. That's why I'm asking you these questions."

"O-Okay," Phoenix sat back down.

"How long has your mother been sick?"

"Since the summer," Phoenix answered. It was almost November now, so around six months.

"When did you start taking over her responsibilities?"

"Um. It was just dinner for a while," Phoenix mumbled.

Gregory was still not satisfied, "And what is it now?"

"Why?" Phoenix asked nervously. "Everything's okay."

Gregory shook his head, "Unfortunately, I don't believe that's true. I saw your phone ringing with 'Dad' as the ID. I answered it while you were sleeping. I don't appreciate the language he uses around or about you."

"Y-You talked to him?" Phoenix was visibly getting more upset.

"I did. I told him you were studying here and that I'd make sure you got home safely. However, I got the distinct impression that was not the point he cared about. Can you tell me what your home life is like right now?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"What was it like when your mother was healthy?"

"When she was healthy?" Phoenix nodded, "She did everything . . ."

"And now you do 'everything' right? How is your mother doing?"

"I . . . don't know." Phoenix frowned.

"Is she in the hospital? Have you seen her lately?"

Phoenix shook his head, "She's home, but she sleeps all the time. I haven't talked to her in a long time."

Gregory's face shifted, considering something, then said, "She . . . has been sleeping? When is the last time you saw her awake?"

"A couple of weeks ago . . ." Phoenix admitted.

"I think I will drop off food for your father in your place tonight. I want the two of you to make sure the project is perfect, okay?"

"But," The boy protested, "I still have to do laundry tonight."

"It's just for one evening, okay?" Gregory insisted, "By the way. I noticed something, Phoenix. Are you wearing cologne?"

"U-Uhm," He looked away, "No matter how much I wash my clothes, they still . . ."

"I understand. Please, wait here a moment while I go and have a discussion with your father."

_And Father left. When he came back, he assured Phoenix could stay the night. A few days later, he was taken in by relatives elsewhere, with very little explanation. He never answered his phone or made an attempt to reach us back . . . but I believe there is a reason for his silence, even if Larry does not._

Gregory acted solemnly as he addressed his memory on what happened, "When I received that phone call from his father, I heard a waterfall of verbal abuse. After talking with Mr. Wright, I looked through their messages and listened to voicemail. It was nonstop, around the clock harassment."

"So, I was right," Miles tensed up. _We were no older than 12 at the time. It's no wonder Phoenix withdrew._

"Yes . . . what I found at the Wright residence . . . well. It was about what I expected, after hearing Phoenix's explanation."

". . . What do you mean?" Miles asked, unsure where his Father's recount headed.

"He mentioned that his mother had been 'sleeping'. It made me suspect that she had been worse than Phoenix let on. As I approached the house, however, I could smell it."

"Father . . .?" Miles was still confused. Even Larry was invested, even though he pretended not to be.

"It was an air of what resembled roadkill – it was a surprise that none of the neighbor's reported it in. I talked to Phoenix's father when he answered the door. He was as violent in person as he was over the phone."

Gregory continued, "As we talked in the doorframe, many different scents assailed me at once. The roadkill being the most prevalent, but there was an attempt at disguising it with cleaners and candles. I bribed my way inside with the food and checked the place out while Mr. Wright ate."

"What was the smell?" Larry asked, still balancing on the two hind legs of his chair. Miles asked nothing but wanted to know as well.

"I followed it to the bedroom, and I found Phoenix's mother. She had been expired for at least a month. At that stage it was impossible to really place her time of death."

"Phoenix didn't know she was . . . ?" Miles asked.

"Phoenix . . . had been trying to wake a corpse up." Gregory closed his eyes as he remembered the days that followed and the questions they asked the poor child.

Larry's chair fell backwards with a thud that vibrated in the entire restaurant as he yelled, "WHAAT!?" He stood back up and gracelessly grabbed his fallen chair.

"I – I have no idea what to say," Miles felt his stomach turn into knots, "H-how could such a thing happen?"

"At that age, some kids have learned of death and others had not. Phoenix could not sleep or concentrate in that house with the constant verbal abuse, the worsening smells, and the lack of his mother's presence. He coped by telling himself that she was just resting to get better."

"For an entire month!? How did his Father not notice?" Miles countered, "There's no way an adult could make such a mistake!"

"Indeed not." Gregory stirred sugar into his tea, "We surmised that he had murdered her but proving it at that point was difficult. However; he was deemed mentally unstable and placed in a mental ward. That left Phoenix with no recourse but to live with extended family."

_So, that's the truth behind his behavior,_ Miles frowned. He knew something was wrong. "Do you know where he is now?"

"His family did not stay in touch and lived overseas. I suppose they wanted to distance themselves from what happened. Distance was probably also good for Phoenix."

"He never returned any of our calls!" Larry shouted, "I mean, I guess I get it. But, still, we were worried, too, y'know?"

"His cellphone would not take local calls overseas," Gregory explained, "That's probably why he never reached back out."

Their food came out, but Miles lost all semblance of an appetite. "Why did you keep this from me? I have asked you a thousand times if you knew anything."

"It was difficult. You were a child yourself."

Miles pushed away his plate and said, "I'm 24, Father. I have not been a child for a few years now, if you haven't noticed."

"I only wanted to recount that story once . . . Selfish, I know," Gregory took his utensils and began to eat his own food. He had seen much in his time as a defense lawyer, so his hunger remained unchanged. Larry eventually followed Gregory's example, but Miles felt sick to his stomach.

_Overseas. Is there a way I can find him with that new parameter? _

"Where did he move to?" Miles asked, channeling his inner detective.

Gregory answered, "France, I believe. His aunt lived a glamorous life, from what I gathered."

_France. His aunt. Do I need any more details?_

"Maternal aunt?"

Gregory looked at Miles questioningly. "What are you planning, son?"

"Isn't that obvious, Father?" Miles smiled confidently, "I'm going to find him."

_I've exhausted all national means, but if he hasn't been in this country for thirteen years, no wonder I could not find him._

"Well, I know better than to stand in your way when you want something," Gregory wrote something down on a napkin and handed it to Miles, "You can start your search there."

_Paris, France._

_Belle, Annie_

"Annie is his aunt. Belle was her last name at the time, but she could have married at some point. She lived in Paris in 2003 – so I imagine she moved back there and worked on transferring all of Phoenix's records and such."

Miles nodded gratefully, and placed the napkin in his jacket pocket, "Thank you, Father." Miles would find Phoenix, no matter what.


	2. Bluecorp

Chapter 2

Bluecorp

"So, let me get this straight," Miles heard in his ear as Larry disregarded personal space, "You've been searching for Nick this entire time?"

They were hunched over Miles' personal laptop that had software linked to the police's database on public records. Which was to say that Edgeworth having possession of such software was not illegal – that knowledge was open to the public. It just meant that he did not have to waste a trip to the precinct 99% of the time.

What the software could not do, however, was penetrate anything sealed. "Yes. The fault with this lies in the software's development phase. It was released in 2012, so anything prior is not synced properly. Which is probably why it did not pick up on Phoenix's transfer to France."

Larry picked his ear, "Shouldn't you get this thing to work better?"

"I am not using the 2016 version," Miles sighed, "Too much money and I don't think they'd let defense lawyers use the 'classified edition'."

"If that stupid Nick put a move on Cindy when she was in France, I'm gonna huuurt him!"

". . . I doubt their paths ever crossed." Miles was simply astounded by the Butz's lack of insight. "The other thing about this is, if Phoenix simply visited the States, it may not necessarily reflect. He would have to have moved here, found employment, or went to university . . . something that would leave a trail."

"So, it's useless?" Larry pursed his lips after Miles gave him another look. Larry then asked, "When's the last time you searched for Nick?"

Miles wondered that, too. He had given up using the search engine to pick up where Phoenix lived since the results turned up blank multiple times throughout the years. After Miles stayed silent, Larry asked, "You search social media?"

"Yes. It doesn't look like Phoenix ever used any of those platforms," Miles shook his head. _I was thorough, you know._

"Give it another go! I wanna see the software," Larry demanded childishly, ping-ponging from one thought to the next.

"I . . . doubt it would do anything, but why not?" Miles inserted in the criteria and hit enter. The screen clocked for a moment and Miles doubted, "It won't bring up any results, though."

And before their eyes, one single match came back.

"That's never happened before," Miles clicked on 'open result' and it listed 'Phoenix Wright' living in an apartment complex only ten minutes away from the Edgeworth Law Offices. He moved back in December of 2015, nearly ten months ago!

"Well, well, well," Larry shook his head, "I guess he coulda reached out but chose not to. Pfft. Whatever."

Miles was too busy recording the information to care what Larry remarked just then. _How did I miss this? Had I really not checked in that long?_

Miles replied cheekily, "Well, as I said, Cindy and Phoenix really couldn't have crossed paths."

"Yeah. Cuz he was home and not saying a word to us." Larry scratched his nose, "You aren't seriously gonna pay him a visit, are you? What are you gonna say? 'Hey! Long time, no see! Sorry about your mom, but I'm glad to see you again!'?"

"There is this thing called 'tact', Larry."

"It's been nearly a full year since he moved back home! I think he coulda least sent a letter or something by now?"

"We'll find out, won't we?" _I neglected this for nearly a year . . ._

Larry yawned and laid down on the couch to watch television in the Edgeworth offices. "Nah, I'm good. Let me know how boy wonder is when you get back?"

"You are awfully carefree for a moocher addressing its benefactor." Miles tapped on the desk with annoyance, "By the way, when are you going to pay us for our services?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll get a job again soon," Larry turned up the volume and proceeded to ignore Miles. Even if he wanted to contest it, Miles had something more important to do.

Miles parked in the lot and saw his target, '3C', in large lettering from below. He left the car to climb the steps to the street facing units; these apartments might have been close to the offices, but they were in a sketchier part of town. Miles felt almost out of place here.

_This is where you live, Phoenix? Surely there are safer areas . . ._

Miles knocked on the door once he reached it. He heard nothing from within and not a soul was seen on site. Like a ghost town. His excitement diminished somewhat as dread rooted itself in him. The imagine of a criminal jumping him crossed his mind, but he dismissed it.

Then the thought of these units being haunted chilled him, and Miles had a harder time rejecting that one. _Ghosts are not real. Pull yourself together, Miles! The living . . . er, live here._

"Hey," a raspier feminine voice addressed him. Miles startled and turned toward the voice. "What are you doing in front of my apartment?"

"Your apartment?" She was not a ghost at all, but where did she come from? Her features were very white, in resemblance to her phantom appearance. Even her hair had an almost silver tint to it and ethereal baby blue eyes to complete her aesthetic. "I thought that a man by the name of 'Phoenix Wright' lived here?"

"Hmm. 'Wright', huh . . .?" She unlocked the door to '3C' and went inside, "You. Follow."

The place was spotless – more literately than it should be. It had an unmade bed tucked in the far room and a work desk (though it lacked tools) in the kitchen, but that was it. The woman who invited Miles in leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms, "You one of Wright's clients?"

"Clients?" Miles asked. _This isn't a residence. It's a meeting location. _

She tilted her head to the side and sighed, "Look. Got work I need done. Wright ain't here right– I doubt he'd be again. So, unless you're someone worth talking to, I'm gonna ask you to leave."

"Is there something illegal going on here?" Miles asked the first thing on his mind; though soon regretted it. She set her ghoul eyes on him very perilously.

"Who are you?" She asked.

Miles felt the shift in her demeanor and said, "I think I should just excuse myself, now."

"Hold it," She pulled a gun out and rested it against her thigh. Miles instinctively raised his hands to dissuade her from attacking him. She then ordered without raising it, "Stay still."

Miles did not move an inch as she walked forward and patted him down with her free hand. _What . . . what is going on? It's been a long time since someone's flashed a gun at me . . . I am shaking and couldn't move even if I wanted to . . ._

She felt something in his breast pocket and pulled it out, "Shit."

The small, circular golden badge rested in her palm and she stared Miles dead in the eyes, "You're one of White's boys, ain't you?"

"White?" Miles stepped back, finding his legs again. The woman locked the gun on him in retaliation.

"You tell your boss I'm not afraid of his coward face." She meant business and Miles knew she would shoot if she felt threatened.

He felt his nerve return to him and calmly coaxed, "I believe you do not have a grasp on this situation. You think I was sent here to threaten you, correct?"

"What else could you be here for? Put your hands behind your head and walk out that door. Now." She waved her armed hand toward the door.

"I do not have any weapons in my possession. That is why you searched me, right? All I have is that badge you are holding now . . ."

"Yeah . . .? How you know 'Wright'?" She asked. _What in the world have you gotten yourself into, Phoenix?_

"He is a friend of mine," Miles answered truthfully, "I do not know what manner of business the two of you run here, but I only came because I found this apartment listed under his name."

"If you're a friend of his, answer this." She still did not believe Miles but paused while coming up with a question. "What's his favorite color?"

"Blue," He answered without hesitation.

"Everyone's favorite color is blue. That doesn't count," She smirked.

_Well, mine is not so your theory is incorrect._

She then thought of another question to test Miles with. "What's the silly little charm he carries with him?"

"The Signal Samurai keychain?" Miles asked, somewhat astonished by the though. "I have the red one on my car keys."

She laughed and lowered the gun as Miles carefully retrieved the matching pair from his pocket, "Oh, how sweet! Kid friendship charms! Ahahahaha!"

"Th-that's not funny!" Miles let out a breath he had been holding in. Feeling expressive, he shouted with revived raging energy, "Do you always greet someone new with a gun!?"

"I have enemies in high places," She answered cynically and handed the badge back, "I'd suggest you turn tail and never come back."

"After that display? I think not," Miles folded his arms and felt his heart beating against his wrist. He tried to downplaying his anxiety, but was not sure if his performance stuck the landing.

"What? Are you going to call the cops?" She taunted and returned to rest against the counter.

"I certainly should, however . . .If you can you tell me how to contact Phoenix, I will not." Miles offered his deal.

"I'll leave him a note. Off you go, little lawyer."

"Just a note? I did not suffer being held at gunpoint for you to be so dismissive. Or should I go ahead and give the police a call after all?" Miles argued his point. _Maybe I should not have said that?_ _This outing is far from what I anticipated._

She snorted at him and answered, "I see why you're friends. I'll tell him the owner of the red charm popped in."

"Is that all you are going to give me?" Miles asked with frustration lines creeping on his face.

"Take it or leave it. You've now overstayed your welcome, lil' red samurai. Shoo shoo." She waved her hand at him to leave.

Miles left with an aura of bitterness. He exhausted all the information she was going to provide and feared she would become violent if he pressed his luck. His heart still bounced haphazardly after that 'discussion'.

_It's a really good thing that Larry did not come with me. He would have definitely gave her reason to pull the trigger. _Miles thought as his breath returned to him. Even after collecting himself, he could not believe what just happened.

_What is going on here, Phoenix?_

Miles returned to the offices, but to his dismay, his father was also there. He did not want to go over the events with Larry while his Father listened in.

"Hey, Miles," Gregory greeted as his son walked in, "Larry said he was going to search for jobs. He's not going to continue making himself at home here, is he?"

"Oh. That I could not tell you, Father . . ." _Well. At least I don't have to explain what happened._

Gregory eyed Miles suspiciously, and asked, "Is everything alright? You look pale."

_Right. Father is way too perceptive. I should have known nothing would escape him. _"I just had a – a rather unexpected day. Do you want me to prepare dinner later? I could go pick up groceries."

"Unexpected in what way?" _Well, there goes misdirection as a tactical play . . .I am being examined thoroughly. I should just come out with the truth._

"I used the search engine to find Phoenix," Miles began to explain, "But when I visited the address listed, I met a woman instead. And she was not a very gracious host."

"What did this woman do?"

"Well. She . . . pulled a gun on me."

Gregory composed himself before asking, "Who is she?"

Miles lowered his head, "I never learned her name."

"Why would she pull a gun on you?" Father Edgeworth was not at all pleased to learn this. Which was why Miles had hoped to keep it secret.

"She thought I was a hired ruffian. She let me go when she realized I was unarmed."

"And this woman was at the place Phoenix allegedly lives at?" Gregory asked and pressed his fist against his chin. "I am not too sure what to make of that, Miles."

_Yes. She had keys to the apartment . . . but I doubt either Phoenix or that woman lives there. It's where they meet 'clients'._

"Neither do I, Father," Miles went to his computer and clicked on the results once more. He pulled the profile up and noticed something odd. Phoenix's occupation was left blank . . . he moved back home but has yet to find employment. But he could afford to rent an apartment for ten consecutive months.

_Clients. Undocumented work . . ._

"Did you report her to the police?" Gregory asked, breaking Miles' line of thought.

"I did not . . ." Miles answered, thinking only of his insurance in contacting Phoenix. "Regardless of my intent, she felt threatened. She let me go once I explained myself."

"You really should have called that in." Gregory scolded.

_An apartment that had an unmade bed and a workstation. What was the workstation used for?_

Apparently, Gregory was far from done admonishing, "Do not go back to that residence. Whoever Phoenix is dealing with is obviously dangerous. A criminal. Trauma changes people, unfortunately. Especially if left untreated. That boy you knew is likely gone."

_I don't believe that. But I can't argue it, yet. Father – and even Larry – bring up points that I cannot refute without more information. _ "I will not return to that apartment," Miles promised, acknowledging that the woman was dangerous, at least.

But . . . where could he investigate from there?

Miles woke up in his own apartment. His dreams were soured since he discovered Phoenix's potential life gone awry. _A criminal_. Miles could not believe it, but the facts wanted to fit themselves to that mold. No matter how he wished differently, Phoenix possibly dealt in something shady.

The next possible angle is to search the French records on Annie Belle or Phoenix. There probably existed a foreign directory he could use. While planning out his next move, Miles began his morning routine.

He turned on the television to the morning news and brushed his teeth while listening in. It reported a segment piece on a company called 'Bluecorp', though Miles had never heard of it before. After he rinsed and used mouthwash, he exited the bathroom and saw a man who had 'colorful' features – purple hair and a purple suit adorned with diamonds – boasting his success while interviewing.

_What a clown_. Miles thought as he listened to the gaudy man rattle off obviously made up words to make himself appear brighter. The timestamp on the interview was from a few days ago, so they were merely rehashing old news.

"And I have to pontificate to all my clients the exclusionariness of my success!" He boldly smiled as his diamond suit glinted in the stage light, "Work fandaboulously hard and connect! People are the backbone to any granderous enterprise!"

_Oh no. I was wrong,_ Miles turned off the television, _He's not a clown. He's the entire circus._

He sat down at his laptop and began searching for foreign software or directories he could utilize. Before researching, he pulled up a few social media sites and looked for Annie Belle. Surprisingly, there were a number of women by that name.

Miles sighed. _This has not been straightforward for years. Why would it be now?_

With that thought in mind, he began to filter out what was unusable in hopes to narrowing down his search.


	3. Critical Eye

Chapter 3

Critical Eye

Monday, August 8th 2016

Miles spent the full of his weekend scrolling through the very many Annie's that inhabited France, but he did finally find her.

Ornate photographs filled Annie Belle's personal page. She posed in elegant ball gowns with glittering masks, and even had well-timed, unblurred full body shots of her being twirled on the dance floor. In her photos, she never danced with the same man twice. Miles could tell beyond the masquerading because the heights, outfits, body types, and hair details of the men changed often.

While high school dances and Halloween monopolized masquerade balls in the States, France carried a long-held tradition for esteemed adults, and Annie Belle frequented them. Whoever photographed these events had a steady hand and a keen eye.

Miles nearly dismissed this Annie Belle in favor of the next woman with that name, but her fondness of glamour and her birth city made him pause. While Phoenix never did appear in any of the thousands of pictures, she mentioned him in comments from time to time.

The first one Miles found stated, "Adopted my dear nephew. Living life with my new baby! 3"

"My dress is finished! My dear nephew, Phoenix, is quite the tailor 3" she wrote the last time, in 2007. _A tailor? That is a skill I could not have predicted from him._

Phoenix was not hyperlinked, so he still had no social media, and therefore searching for him through this method yielded nothing – but at least Miles knew he found the right Annie. He 'followed' and sent a private message, wondering if she would respond?

Miles asked her in the private message, "I am Phoenix Wright's friend from grade school. Would you mind answering a few questions I have about how he is faring?"

It was straightforward enough, but Miles felt uneasy about sending her the message. At worst, though, she ignored and blocked Miles; so, where was the harm in trying?

Changing focus, Miles queried the French directory. It would not pull up employment or schooling – those searches kept coming back restricted – but it showed Phoenix still living in the same home as he did in 2003, under Annie Belle's residence.

The only move that Phoenix made was from Annie Belle's residence to that burner apartment. _Why? _So much of that timeline conveyed Phoenix in a poor light. Miles, determined to find the truth, thought of new angles to explore while considering what he learned thus far.

While he put that on pause, he thought of what that woman said. "_You're one of White's boys. . ." _Who was White? Why was she threatened by him? Miles deliberated going back to that apartment, but guilt of lying to his father prevented him from exploring it again. He decided to pay the offices a visit and maybe come up with something new in a different setting.

Gregory watched the news while waiting for a new case to reach his desk. That boisterous man appeared on the television screen once more and Gregory sneered at him. Miles glanced over in wonder on the explicit negative reaction.

"That is Redd White," Gregory explained, noticing Miles' own reaction.

_White? Is that a coincidence?_

"He is one of the more notorious criminals in this area. No one can seem to bring him to justice . . . or even seems motivated to, for that matter."

Miles sat in one of the consultant's chairs facing Gregory and asked, "That businessman is a criminal? Why is he still walking free?"

Gregory sighed, "A flaw within the system. Our counterparts, the prosecutors, are the ones who need to be jointly investigating Bluecorp with the police force, but they seem to be complacent with his positioning."

"What can we do, then?" Miles asked. Gregory closed his eyes and laid back in his chair. After a moment of silence, the older Edgeworth answered Miles.

"The lawyer in me says we wait for a victim of his to surface and gather proof in the absence of a materialized case. The father in me wants you to stay far, far away from Bluecorp." Miles understood where his father's concern sprang from. He did not argue against it, though. Impudence would not change Gregory's mind and so he waited for his father to continue.

"But . . . it would do you no favors if I held you back at every danger that presents itself. Just be careful if you ever do find yourself at that man's opposition."

Miles nodded, "Thank you, father. Though now that you have said his name, I can't help but wonder if the woman and White have a commonality."

"Why would you draw that conclusion?"

"The woman I met asked me if I was 'one of White's boys'. I did not know who she referred to at the time, but is it possible she meant Redd White?"

Gregory's body stiffened as he considered Miles' discovery. "Of course, it is entirely plausible. If this woman made enemies with White, she would be defensive as a result. That does raise another question, though. What does Phoenix have to do with all of this?"

_Right. Phoenix could not be oblivious to his partner's plight. Does that mean he made enemies with White as well?_

"Father. Can we pay that apartment another visit?"

Gregory fingers struck the desk sequentially for three repetitions before he answered, "I see no reason for us to risk our safety on what is essentially a hunch."

Miles expected such a response. For all the love and respect that Miles had toward his father, he could not help but feel an inclination against Gregory's judgement. _I don't want my reunion to be with a corpse, _Miles thought with coiling sensations.

And that thought accurately summed up Miles' predisposition on the matter: He was not of a rationale mind right now. His concern and belief in his friend outweighed his typical nature.

"Our path is not always a safe one, though . . ." Gregory completed his thought after much deliberation. "Yes. It would put my mind at ease if I went with you, of course. Seeing as your mind is set."

Gregory stood up and waved at Miles to join him, much to the young man's astonishment. He expected another wave of arguments but took what he was given with grace. They left the offices and traveled in Gregory's vehicle completely hushed.

Miles' imagination started to picture what Phoenix might look like after all these years. All he could see is that boy whose face was so drawn out and exhausted, and eyes so lifeless.

Gregory chuckled as he drove, finally breaking the silence, "You have wanted to see him for so long. The anticipation is written on your face, clear as day."

Miles mentally went over what he knew again, though he could construe nothing new from it. "Why would he not reach out?"

"He knew better than to contact you if he participated in illegal activities. It would be a great relief if my feelings on Phoenix are misguided, Miles. But my senses and the evidence at hand are telling me otherwise."

Miles placed one hand on top of the other, resting them gently on his thigh, "I never thought there would be days where I disagree with you."

Gregory laughed again, "I could be wrong. I hope that I am, for your sake."

"My sake?" Miles pondered it a moment. _How much have I invested in this?_

"Yes. Your faith in your friend means that I must be the impartial one, until we know for sure. I just hope he doesn't disappoint you." The Edgeworths sat in their silence for the last fraction of their trip, since Miles did not know what to say in response.

When they parked, Gregory glanced upward at their destination. Unlike before, a few people were scuffling around on the premises. Carefully and on alert, they both exited the car with the older taking the lead.

A woman on the second-floor landing absent-mindedly took a long drag of a rolled up joint when they passed by, and the smell of skunk wafted as the wind blew toward them. Even though Miles could only see his father's back on the ascent, he could tell the disapproval only greatened at each grievance.

On the third floor, the ivory blonde woman with the gun exited the '3C' unit and harshly met Miles' eyes, then focused on Gregory. She asked just as bluntly, "Why are you here, Lil Red?"

"Is this her?" Gregory asked with about as much sharpness in his own voice. Gregory actually communicated, '_Is this the woman who pulled a gun on you?' _to Miles, and he could tell this situation skydived without a parachute to save it.

"Call the police, huh?" The woman laughed, "Whatever. Can't prove nothing."

"I did not," Miles explained before Gregory could get another word in, "I was hoping you could fill in a few more details for us."

She brushed her hair out of the way and rolled her eyes, "For what?"

"You said 'White' before," Miles continued, ignoring her antagonistic mannerisms, "Do you mean Redd White of Bluecorp?"

She crossed her arms while tapping her foot in a very aggressive manner. Once she finally responded, it went just as horribly, "I got no time for this. You and pops need to leave. Unless you got a warrant."

"And do we need a warrant?" Gregory jumped on the opportunity to press her. Reinforced by her behavior, Gregory believed she was a criminal regardless of her enmity with Bluecorp.

She sighed and said, "If ya got one, I'll step aside. If not, go. I already told Wright you visited, okay? Several days ago. If you ain't heard from him, I dunno what to tell ya."

Those words stung Miles more than he cared to admit, but Gregory deflected her excuse and pointedly reminded her, "We were not asking about Wright. We were asking about Bluecorp and White. Unless you were admitting to a connection between the two men?"

She scoffed, "You serious?"

"Yes. I am." Gregory's tone confirmed it, too. "I am not entirely sure what business you and Wright have with Bluecorp, but it does take some level of underhanded activities to catch that business's attention. Isn't that correct?"

"Then you don't have a clue," She stated in her own bewilderment. Though something on her end cleared up, Gregory and Miles were left as puzzled as before. She then asked, "You both attorneys?"

"We are," Gregory answered slowly, unable to place why she would ask that so abruptly.

She then thought about it some more, and questioned, "You're here because of Wright? That the only reason?"

Gregory did not know how to answer that, nor did he grasp how she managed to wrest control of the examination away from him. Miles then gave his own response, "At first, yes."

"Tell ya what, boys," She slipped by Gregory and Miles in a fluid motion, then waved on her way down the steps, "Y'all can search that apartment to your heart's content. You won't find nothin', but it might make you feel better."

Miles and Gregory looked at each other with the same level of confusion. She left the door semi open, which gave the Edgeworths a chance to do a swift inspection unhindered if they chose it. Gregory's suspicions prevented him from immediately entering, though, "Are we able to trust her? We still do not even know her name."

The temptation to search the apartment enticed Miles, but he remained collected in his father's presence. He answered, "She did give us permission, albeit it sounded more like a taunt."

Gregory's frustration with this entire situation deepened in his brow, "I do not like her attitude. But we will learn nothing staring at the door . . . Keep an eye on the entrance, since we cannot anticipate who may join in."

Miles agreed to those conditions and they walked into the living room area. Miles immediately walked to the worktable – which was an unfished wooden desk, seen primarily in a workshop – due to a vexing curiosity from his previous visit.

"Miles. Careful not to touch anything," Gregory warned.

"Oh," Miles internally disputed if there was a point in being so careful, as this was not an actual crime scene. He followed the instruction anyway, and visually scanned the work area. All he found was a metal rod, about 1 ½ - 2 feet in length, in the corner beside the flat work desk – a singular piece of construction material?

_That's out of place. There aren't any tools to go with it, so for what purpose is it used?_

Miles kept the observation to himself for the time being and examined the kitchen. Waste from a few meals polluted the counter – it consisted of prepackaged food wrappers, as well as disposable plasticware, bowls, and plates.

_Nothing reusable._

Unable to open the cupboards to confirm this, Miles met his father just outside the bedroom. The single mattress and frame now had bedding.

"Two beds," Gregory noted, against Miles' initial surveillance. Apparently, there was a second twin bed just out of Miles' original line of sight. Gregory then said, "At least two people could stay here at any time, though the way the beds are positioned do not suggest romantic involvement. The closets are left empty and I do not see any dressers."

"That bed did not have any sheets last week," Miles added.

Gregory nodded, "Yes. it is not likely that either stays here long-term. This is more akin to a meetup location or a hideaway than a residence. Which only reinforces my hypothesis."

Again, Miles could not counterargue what appeared so blatantly in front of them. There had to be an explanation – a reason for all of this; but the full picture eluded him.

"Both beds are made?" Miles asked. _Am I misremembering this, or did she not say that 'Phoenix would not return to this location'? So why both beds?_

Gregory replied, "Yes. And they both were sloppily remade. It does look like two people spent the night here."

_Assuming she had no reason to lie about Phoenix's frequency to this apartment, who else would stay here?_

"I think we have learned all we can from this apartment." Gregory said.

_There must be more. Something missing. _

Gregory waited for a response, then asked, "Well? Do you have any other thoughts?"

_The assumption is she slept in one and Phoenix the other. That contradicts what she said before, unless that initial statement was false; However, there is nothing to suggest a third person utilizes this apartment. _

"I . . . suppose there is nothing more we can do," Miles acknowledged in bitter defeat. _What else? No personal possessions, all throwaway items_, _and only transitory furniture . . . _There were very few clues to begin with under that premise. Even so, Miles knew he must have overlooked something vital.

To stall for time, Miles pointed to the worktable and said, "If this is a rental, there would be no need for a tenant to use a metal rod for construction to the unit itself, correct?"

Gregory nodded, "It is up to the owners for any repairs."

"Then that metal rod must be used for something else, then." _I have eliminated only one possible use for that rod, though I have no idea whether or not it is important._

Gregory inspected the rod in question and immediately found its existence strange as well. He ruminated, "A scrap leftover from a project? There isn't any debris on or around the table, and the rod also looks new and clean."

Miles folded his arms, "Interesting . . . Hmm . . . Father? Even if this were a transitionary residence, it would still have mail sent for bills and rent. Did you happen to see any?"

"No . . ." Gregory nodded, then frowned. Truly, they found _nothing _of value here besides evidence of a project at the worktable. Were either the rod or the worktable essential to their investigation? The existence of the table gave Miles pause. If this place was so temporary, why would they go through the effort of having that sturdy table? Wouldn't a simple card table suffice?

_The table is sturdy wood. It is clean and free from debris. The only evidence of it being used as such is a single rod, which is similarly untouched . . ._

"We are on the third floor," Miles said, "Why would he install a worktable like this, then not use it?"

"They may have utilized it months ago," Gregory observed, "This apartment has been in his name for 9-10 months now. Whatever original purpose it had may no longer be relevant."

Miles nodded and examined the apartment in full. The only place they did not check, he realized, was the bathroom. But, again, would there be a point?

"At any rate, I do not wish to remain here," Gregory turned toward the front door. This entire place had him on edge – though Miles agreed the apprehension was justified, he wanted to discover the truth . . . White, Phoenix, and that woman were all intertwined, somehow.

"T-The bathroom," Miles pointed out, "We have not checked there. I assume it is that room at the end."

Gregory sighed and nodded, "Here. Wear these gloves. I do not want our fingerprints on anything."

Miles put on the pair of gloves and went to what was presumably the bathroom door. He went to open it, but an installed deadbolt above the knob and its refusal to budge meant only one thing.

"A locked bathroom door . . .?" Gregory asked, equally as puzzled by the bizarre turn of events. Without the key, they had no way of entering and so Miles backed out of the hallway. They regrouped in the open 'living room' area.

"I am surprised I did not notice the deadbolt sooner," Gregory said, "Too many other details – or lack thereof – to note first, I suppose. I would assume installing a deadbolt is in violation of their rental contract."

"What do they have hiding behind that door . . .?"

"Drugs or more weaponry, perhaps. Though storing either in a damp location may not be the best idea. Whatever it is, that woman decidedly thought we would not notice anything."

_What could be stored in a damp location without becoming damaged?_

"Something valuable that could withstand wet conditions . . ." Miles said.

"Assuming they were smart or considerate enough to care about the conditions," Gregory countered, "If they are dealers of illegal supplies, they would have no reason to care about the quality of their 'product'."

_Product? They do have clients – but what are they selling, exactly?_

"She did mention 'clients'. But wouldn't she refer to them as 'customers' if they were buying? It sounds more like they were selling a service, instead."

"I do see your point. That language does imply something along those lines." Gregory agreed to an extent.

Miles continued to expand on this theory, "If this apartment is used for commercial business rather than residence, then it would be safe to assume that both the bathroom and the worktable are used in facility. . . to something. . ."

"Perhaps. Either way, we cannot prove what product or service it is they do sell; only that it is probable that it is a business. Regardless of what it is, exactly, that is against the law."

_Even if it is something as benign as selling cookies, rentals have a clause written in them to prevent commercial use of their units. Already, they have broken laws just by running a business out of an apartment._

Noise at the entrance brought both father and son to attention. The blonde-haired woman returned and smiled, "Well? Had enough?"

"What is on the other side of the bathroom?" Gregory asked.

"Personal. I let ya have a poke around. It's time for y'all to leave." She slipped passed them into the bedroom and pulled a bookbag and an equipment bag from under one of the beds. She then explained, "I've got somethin' to do. I would like to lock her up now."

She ushered them out of the apartment, but Miles planted his feet and asked, "What is in those bags?"

"If you couldn't find them in your poking around, then I got nothin' for ya."

They were outside on the landing and she quickly locked the door before either Edgeworth could get another word in. After she finished, Gregory asked her, "Why were you willing to let us investigate, but still refuse to answer any of our questions?"

"You two need to butt out. If you know what's good for ya," She started to sneak through, but her bags prevented her from slipping passed like before. Gregory and Miles formed a shield that her bags could not fit through.

"So. You are threatening us?" Gregory said.

She shook her head, "Y'know . . . I'm beginnin' to think y'all ain't that bright. I talked to Wright again. He said that he don't want either of you involved."

"You talked to him?" Miles asked.

"Yeah. And ya know somethin' else? I ain't his damn secretary! If you don't hear from him, I can't help ya."

"Then let us ignore Wright for a minute and focus on you," Gregory crossed his arms. "You will not tell us about the bathroom or the content in those bags, but you did let us see the inside of the apartment unattended. That means before you spoke with Wright, you were willing to part with information if we found out something, correct? You only changed your mind after allegedly speaking with him."

She set the bags down gently and lit a cigarette, "I see. You wanna do this the hard way. I am wary by nature, but since you knew Wright, I figured it'd be worth my time to key you in."

Gregory wrinkled his nose at the horrible habit, but said, "But that changed in the duration you let us investigate. Why? Did Wright say something to you?"

She exhaled a cloud of smoke off into the distance and shook her head, "Y'all in over your head and oversteppin'."

"Overstepping?" Miles repeated.

"You aren't wanted hangin' around here. It's just that simple. He said as much over the phone . . ."

Miles flinched at the statement. _If he would just talk to me, I could explain myself to him . . ._ Unwilling to back down after coming this far, Miles asked, "Do you know when he will be here next?"

"Not a clue," she flicked ash from her cigarette and took another long drag.

Miles felt a frustration headache drilling behind his furrowing eyebrows. Neither one would answer questions directly, from what he could see. Unfortunately, neither of the Edgeworths had authority to force her into giving an explanation, either.

"I will only tell you this much . . ." She sighed, then earnestly explained, "Too many people workin' the same stint will only draw unwanted attention. The fewer the hands, the less spoilage. And we work best when we ain't got too many people hangin' around."

"What is it you two are trying to accomplish, then?" Miles asked her again. _You and White are at opposing ends. I am willing to believe that it has something to do with Bluecorp._

"It will be up to him whether or not he tells ya," She threw her cigarette into the parking lot and picked up her bags, "For now . . . y'all need to leave and stay gone."

"Hold on a moment," Miles readied another line of questioning, but Gregory stepped aside so she could leave.

"We cannot trap her here. I am sorry, Miles, but if Phoenix truly said that we are not welcomed here then we really have overstayed."

"Ah! . . . R-Right, of course . . ." Miles watched the mysterious woman leave. Who was she? Why would Phoenix confide in her rather than them? Thinking about it, Miles became more and more upset and angry; feelings that hardly ever crept forth from him.

Gregory urged them to hurry and remove themselves from the premises by saying, "We have found a lot more here than we bargained for. For now, we should leave before we are caught up in unfavorable circumstances."

Tuesday, August 9th 2016

Miles did not know when the last quality night of sleep for him was; he woke up as groggily as he had the last few mornings. He started his routine but skipped the news. He figured once he was at the offices, he could watch it with his father while he stewed on yesterday's events.

Before Miles drove off, he checked the mail. A small package awaited him in solitude, but it had no addresses in either the recipient or sender sections. Curious as to what the package could be, Miles cut through the tape with his car keys and pulled out an intricate cubed container. Miles ran a finger over the design and felt it toggle. He rattled the box further and realized it was a puzzle box.

_Who sent this? Why a puzzle box?_

Miles opened the door to his car and carefully removed the pieces to the box. One removal of a tall, lean rectangular piece caused another internal piece to block his path, so he had to put that back and approach it from another angle. There were many sliding parts to choose from – and he had to be careful not to misplace the pieces he eliminated from the box. Once all pieces were taken out and internal mechanisms slid out of the way, the box would open.

_Phoenix. Is this your doing?_

It was not too far out of the realm of reality. Miles figured out the box within five minutes, and carefully set aside the different sizes and shapes to the unfolded cube. Inside the box were the directions to assembling and disassembling the box. A somewhat crude joke to someone who could not take it apart without the manual. _I wonder if that means Phoenix pieced it back together without needing this._

A handwritten note lay beneath the instructions:

'I bet that was too easy for you, huh? I'm not taking visitors now so I'm going to ask you to be patient.'

At the end of the text was a samurai stamped in blue ink.

_So, it is Phoenix . . . _

A danger loomed over those apartments and Phoenix forbade Miles from returning now a second time. Miles kept the note and instructions out, then reconstructed the box. He contemplated the appropriate next step while driving to the offices.


	4. When Something Smells

Chapter 4

When Something Smells . . .

Tuesday Evening, August 9th 2016 – 3:25 PM

A man at the end of his day grabbed a few of the paper towels from the dispenser, cleared his throat, and left the bathroom without a clue that he was being waited on. All he cared for in that moment was that another day ended and he could go home.

Another man in a blue suit lingered inside the stall for a clearing, before making his way to the sinks. He washed his hands thoroughly, having been biding time in the unhygienic hiding spot.

He met his reflection's blue eyes in the mirror when he flicked his hands dried, then made sure his hair still was properly spiked back. A few hairs were out of place, so he used some of the water still on his hands to fix it. He dried his hands with a singular paper towel once he was satisfied, then took out a pair of disposable gloves to wear from his inner jacket pocket.

This day particularly did not go as anticipated, though that tended to happen when the Butz was around. His friends were insane, both of them. And he loved every chaotic moment, even if his heart did stop a few times.

The man in the blue suit put on a pair of dark blue glasses that rested in his breast pocket. Once his appearance met expectations he went into the hall of a certain corporate building with his hands in his pockets.

He did not want anyone questioning why he was wearing disposable gloves, after all.

Tuesday Morning, August 9th 2016 – 9:05 AM

Larry stepped outside his rickety old beat-up truck that his father loaned him, then bent over to use the side mirrors. He checked the tower that he made his hair into and licked his palm to collect any stray hairs on the top of his head. He then walked to the entrance doors of a company called 'Bluecorp'.

Larry remembered vaguely where he was supposed to go, but the chick at the front desk was **H-O-T **so he asked her for directions anyway.

"You're one of the new interns, correct?" Her voice was like velvety silk, only for the ears.

"I am," He winked at her as if he had made a huge accomplishment and she should be in awe.

"You'll want to take the elevator up to floor three, then take a right down the hall. You will be expected by your boss."

"Miss Helena," Larry remembered, trying not to salivate. She previously interviewed him last week, just before the weekend. Sadly, she denied his request to take her on a date.

Larry smiled at the receptionist and carried on with his day, fully expecting to enjoy this place. _Corporate babes are great_. He thought happily, then he pressed the call elevator button. He whistled the new hottest single from the Bounce Station he listened to, unable to get it out of his head.

When the elevator grounded, it was empty, so he could board immediately. He then noticed a cute girl rushing to follow in after him, so it held it for her.

"Thanks!" She brushed her bangs to the side and used the reflection in the panes to adjust her hair.

"No problem!" Larry pressed his floor, then asked, "And where are you headed? On your way back to heaven, angel?"

"Hah!" She snorted. A typical reaction, "More like hell." She then pressed 8.

Larry felt that his chances were still reasonably high, so he asked, "Are floors like rank? If so, you must be a really powerful lady."

"I wish. I'm just the one who gets to bring his Powerfulship his coffee . . ."

"Oof. Sorry. Speaking of coffee, miss. Do you know of any good shops around here?"

She nodded as his floor chimed and opened for him, "Too bad you're at your destination."

"Eh. I'm early." The opposite was true. The doors stayed wide open, giving him a final chance to report in. she just shook her head and laughed at him.

"A block from here. A nice family owned shop. I go there often."

"Oh! Neat! In that case, wanna go there for lunch? I'll bring you your coffee instead. How's that sound?"

"Only if you call me 'Your Powerfulship'."

Larry bowed to her instantly and worshiped her, "Any time of day, Your Powerfulship. I will forever be your faithful servant."

"Oh yeah?" She laughed as the elevator rose.

"Yeah! I'm Larry, by the way. Does my Powerful Master have a name?"

"Julia." She answered.

"What a beautiful name! Do you know when your break will be, Your Powerfulship?"

"Meet me by the backdoor at noon."

"Fantastic. Looking forward to it, Your Powerfulship!"

The door opened on her floor, and she said as she stepped out, "Just Jules will be good from now on, Larry."

She rounded a corner and Larry felt a tug. Helena and the receptionist were lovely, but he would have to let them down gently; For he had fallen in love with his angel Jules. Curious, he exited and took a quick peak at floor 8. The lobby was cleaner and brighter than his interviewing floor, and with a decent view of the city through the windows.

Jules walked through a hallway that required badge access, he saw. After the door closed behind her, he swiped his own badge, but it was rejected with three harsh sounding red lights.

"Clearance levels, huh?" Larry mumbled, wondering f if there was a way to obtain access as a newbie intern. "Shoulda tried for a security position."

The opposite hall did not have a restriction door in place, Larry noticed on his way back to the elevator. He decided to continue his exploration down the hallway – above the pathway said 'Legal Department' – and came across a few closed offices and meeting rooms, but primarily it was an open floor with cubicles.

People were already working at their desks and paid Larry no mind as they vigorously typed away. Well, that's what Larry thought, anyway. He failed to realize that one man did, in fact, take note of his presence.

Tuesday Morning, August 9th 2016 – 9:09 AM

"I'm going to need a translation," A coworker in a lot of pink requested after slipping Phoenix a legal document faxed over in Spanish.

"Of course, Miss May." He smiled cheerfully beneath his blue glasses, "I will create an English copy for you."

"Thanks!" She blew a kiss at him (and it seemed like she bounced her breasts at the same time) and said, "I can always count on you!" She bobbed away, leaving Phoenix to read the document over. Like most companies in the 'melting pot', Bluecorp had clients that were not always of English-speaking nationality; and as Redd White likes to say, "Money is its own language."

This particular document, however, was from a Mexican civilian who issued a grievance and threat of a lawsuit, wanting to sue Bluecorp for theft of intellectual property. Undoubtedly, this person would be written off and subsidized. If he continued to persist and press charges, he would be taken care of through other means.

Phoenix opened the software needed for his conversion, when he happened to look up out of habit. He saw a figment of his childhood, mindlessly peering into the seemingly endless lengths of cubicles. Phoenix pulled the document up to hide his face from Larry, wondering what in the hell Larry was doing at Bluecorp!

Phoenix was not ready to deal with friends just yet, and especially did not want White to know of any people he could use as ammunition against him when the time came. Larry walked away, thankfully, allowing Phoenix to breathe. Before he could do anything else, he realized he had to establish just what Larry's movements and motivations were.

Tuesday Morning, August 9th 2016 – 9:16 AM

"Intern!" Miss Helena yelled, "You are 45 minutes late! If you want to keep your job, I suggest you be prompt!"

"Y-Yes Ma'am." Larry no longer saw any sex appeal in Helena after all that yelling. She explained the basis of his job. His tasks were to answer calls, set up appointments, and transfer complaints and technical issues. Simple.

After Helena left, Larry dialed the service number and quickly answered to put his headset in perpetual 'busy' status, then left his designated area. He found the breakroom occupied by two other average workers brewing coffee. They were in the middle of a discussion.

One man said to the other, ". . . and Jenny is smoking in those spandex pants. So glad those count as dresswear."

"Maaaan. Jessica looks hot in those, too."

Larry commented, "Spandex dresswear is the greatest invention of all time."

"Dude. Yes."

"Couldn't agree more."

"Are all the girls here hot?" Larry asked.

"White only hires young and attractive."

Larry had found his temple and would never switch jobs again. He felt a camaraderie with these men and praised, "Bluecorp is amaaazing!"

Tuesday Morning, August 9th 2016 – 9:18 AM

_So, he's just an idiot. Who happens to be an intern here . . . Great. _

Phoenix left Larry to his being chewed out, and walked the stairs back up to the 8th floor to give him five flights of uninterrupted thought.

_If he sinks the entire case I've been working on . . .! _

Phoenix took a deep breath. _No. I have to stay calm . . . he works on three. I work on eight. I just have to be extra careful not to run into him. Why are my friends being so nosy all of a sudden?_

Was it coincidence? Did Larry somehow figure Phoenix out? Was it strange fate? He could see Miles piecing the big picture together, but not Larry . . .

_If he came here by sheer dumb luck . . ._

Bluecorp did attract a certain subgroup of the male persuasion. Though Phoenix had not spoken to Larry in thirteen years, he could only imagine what that child would turn into.

_He would fit in well with the dude-bro culture here. Every time one of them talks to me I want to stick a knife in my eardrum._

Larry could not be that intolerable, right?

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 1:15 PM

"Thanks, Larry." Jules said after Larry walked them back to the elevator after their very successful lunch date.

"No Problemo!" He raised his thumb up.

"Oh no." She said.

"What?" Larry felt a sweat bead roll down his temple. "What's wrong?"

"All the guys say, 'no problemo' after working here. I see you've already picked up on that quirk."

"Oh. Hmm. Oh. Hmmmmm. Is that annoying?"

"White says it all the time. It gets in your head, so then everyone else starts to say it." She explained with a very irritated face. They exited the elevator on eight.

"I will try not to say it," Larry nodded.

"Julia." A man addressed her as he left the secure area. Larry felt a sudden glint of jealousy. Who was this man trying to steal Jules away?

"Oh. Yes?"

"I need you to take something to Jarvis."

"Jarvis?" She looked perplexed for a moment, then said. "Oh. You mean Gervais. You're saying his name wrong, you know?"

"Pfft. Whatever. No one cares about some French guy."

"Jarvis?" Larry asked.

"His name is pronounced 'Jer-vey'. People around here constantly get it wrong."

"That's just plain rude!" Larry didn't care, but Jules did, so he played along.

"I just wish people would get it right." Jules commented, "It is rude."

"So. Why can't you take that to Jahr-vay yourself?" Larry asked the man.

"Lunch time. You can handle this, Juli. Later."

"What a jerk!" Larry called after him as he took the stairs.

Jules sighed, "Back to work it is. I had a great time earlier, Larry. Same thing tomorrow?"

"Sure thing! Coffee or something new?"

"Well, speaking of French food," She mused, "There's this place called Trés Bien opening in the spring of next year. That . . . doesn't help us now, though."

"Well, we can worry about that next year, huh?" Larry walked with her to the legal department.

"Are you planning on sticking around that long?" Jules asked, almost interrogational.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Hmm. Well. I don't normally engage with the guys I work with . . . not only is it a bad idea on principle, the men here swing from one girl to the other. I just . . . don't want to deal with that."

"Well. . . I suppose I get that . . ." Larry did not want to stop seeing Jules, though. She was a goddess among men; and this goddess spoke his language well. "W-Well. I will have you know . . . I will probably get fired before today's end. I skipped like, 90% of my work tasks already. Then you wouldn't have to worry about seeing a coworker, right?"

She snorted again, "That's not something to be proud of, Larry! Tell you what. Even if you do get fired, I always get lunch at noon. Meet me at the same place and time."

"Yes, ma'am!"

". . . You really should try to keep your job. Even if you don't like the work, finding a new job is always better if you're already employed. It gives you an advantage."

"Advantage?" Larry asked, "Wouldn't it be better to find a job than to change it?"

"If you have more than one prospect, you can negotiate. You have more leverage if two companies want your skill. Um. What is your skill, anyway?"

"Err . . ." Larry was caught off guard with that question, "Uh. Here. Not much. But I like to make things!"

"Oh. That sounds interesting," Jules said.

_Awesome! She still digs me!_

"Yeah. I made a working 'Thinker' statue that tells the time!"

"Oh? That's cool." She peaked around the cubicles. "I guess Gervais is not here. Must be on lunch. I'll just leave this for him." Jules placed the document on his desk and walked away with Larry following her like a stray dog.

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 1:21 PM

_And he keeps coming up here with Julia. Great. Just great. How am I supposed to get any work done when he's chatting up the secretaries?_

Phoenix watched from the eighth-floor break room and waited to reemerge from hiding once their backs were turned. _At this rate, I am going to get caught red handed._

What could he do?

_Larry could say just about anything that would come back to bite me. I need him to stop coming up here._

He hated to get the pair of lovebirds in trouble, but he could not risk Larry identifying Phoenix. Complicated situations like this required no vulnerabilities, and Larry had a mouth that would not stop flapping.

Phoenix carefully followed them. Luckily, they were too busy laughing to notice his presence. Larry went down the elevator after they made lunch plans and Jules headed toward the restricted area.

"Julia," Phoenix called out in the deepest, sternest voice he could muster.

"Oh! Hey there!" She smiled at him. "I must have –"

"I need to ask you about that man you were with . . ." Phoenix cut her off and felt like an ass for doing so; and especially for what he was about to do, but he needed distance.

"Oh. Larry? He's just . . ."

"Out of his working zone, correct?" Phoenix folded his arms and pulled off a mean glare, "Miss Julia. Whatever you do with coworkers in your free time is your business. But need I remind you that in the _legal department _requires only authorized personnel in that area?"

"I . . I . . . I am sorry! Please don't tell White!" Tears started to form in her eyes.

"It's fine." _Ouch. I am so sorry. Please, please don't cry . . . _Phoenix's mean voice disappeared and he ordered, "Just don't let it happen again. Okay?"

"I won't! Thank you, sir!" She retreated from Phoenix behind the door and left him feeling like the world's biggest jerk. Granted, nothing he said was especially horrid . . .

_She will discourage him from coming up here but knowing Larry, he will still find an excuse. _

"Hey big boy!" April May greeted him as she exited the elevator, "You got that response yet?"

"Oh. Yes. I will fix the document and get it to you," Phoenix kept a pleasant face about him, but internally sighed.

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 2:02 PM

"Really? Some jerk upstairs made you cry?" Larry asked Julia, who went down to meet him specifically after calming down, running a few tasks, and finding a reason to excuse herself. She then pulled Larry to the side and explained what happened a short while ago.

"N-No." Jules sniffled, "I just don't like c-confrontation much. He wasn't mean about it, just firm . . . anyway, you do understand you can't follow me up to eight anymore, right?"

_I bet I know who did it. I will give that snotty jerk a piece of my mind!_

"Of course, Jules! I don't want you to lose your job or get in trouble because of me." Which was true. If he lost his job, well . . . that sort of thing happens on the regular. But if something bad happened to her because of him, Larry would not forgive himself.

"I'll let you get back to work. I've still got a whole lot left, myself . . ." She excused herself and left.

"Woaahh! Who's that hotty?" One of Larry's friends from earlier said. "Dude! Scoring already, eh?"

"Oh. Jules?" Larry found himself thinking about that jerk they passed near the elevators. The one who told her to give a document to some French guy when he had legs and could easily do it himself. It was probably that guy who gave her an earful.

The man poured from the collective coffee pot and said, "Man. These ladies are fine and fresh picking."

"Oh. Yeah." Larry stopped paying attention to other women around here, surprisingly. Usually, he tried to get as many women as possible, since he seemed to exist in a 'transient' state of switching jobs, professions, and girlfriends. A constant revolving door.

"When you're done with Jules, you should see Steffanie. She'll blow any guy here for dinner."

"No thanks, man. I think I will stick with only Jules."

"Ehhh! No problemo man. Just don't put too many stocks into one woman, hahahaha. Wouldn't want to end up with a ball'n'chain. Just look at poor Martin if you want an example of marriage gone south!"

Larry began to see Jules point. These men were obnoxious. Maybe getting fired wouldn't be such a loss, if it means Jules would still go on dates with him.

Larry continued to plot. The last time Larry saw that insulting man was at floor eight, but didn't he say he was going to lunch? So . . . maybe he was down in the lobby somewhere . . .

Interestingly enough, Larry did find a man of interest in the lobby. Someone that he knew. Someone decidedly out of place.

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 1:46 PM

The puzzle box, the mysterious message, and the results from endless searching his computer for answers left Miles feeling frayed. All this researching and sitting around waiting for the answers to come to him was not the best approach to any investigation worth its salt, so Miles decided on something more actionable.

He did not go back to the apartments – his father and Phoenix were very clear on the prohibited access to that avenue of exploration – but, Miles had not excluded Bluecorp from his findings. And so, to get a scope of Bluecorp, he researched online and found a speech given by Redd White to be held at 2:30 PM.

There was a theatre on the fourth floor of Bluecorp and White wanted to give a motivational speech to a class of entrepreneur college undergrads. Excellent. Miles would slip in and take a look around, as well as get a feel for White.

Miles proceeded to finish up any last many preparations and head out to Bluecorp.

He arrived early though, finding himself in the lobby just after 2:10 PM. His eyes met with a man he truly had no desire to see – nor had a conceivable way of knowing would be here.

"Larry." And Miles teeth gritted to the point where he swore he needed a dental filling.

"No way. What are you doing here, Edgy?"

"Would you stop calling me that?" Miles straightened his undervest and said, "I'm . . . there is a speech here at 2:30. I was going to listen in."

"Oh. Why?"

"That isn't important for you to know. Although, what brings you here?"

"That isn't important for you to know," He mocked. Miles could feel his blood pressure rising but realized his point to some degree.

"Fine. If you must know, I shall explain it later. It would not do me well to explain in _here _though."

Larry stretched and said, "Why not?"

Miles sighed. He was not one for picking up social queues. Miles then lied and said, "I'm thinking about switching my career into entrepreneurship."

"Oh? Really? Does your dad know?"

"No. Now it is your turn, Larry. What brings you here?" _Not that I care, but his presence could be monumentally disastrous if left unchecked._

He stuck out his tongue and scratched the back of his head, "Well! I work here, obviously!"

"You – you do!?" Miles physically revolted and a cold chill ran down his spine. Miles then folded his arms and felt his pointer finger take on a life of its own. "Larry. If you are indeed working here now . . . why are you loitering in the lobby?"

"Oh. I . . . was looking for someone else, actually."

"And who would that be? Not me, I would hope . . ." Unless Larry was some sort of psychic being, that would be impossible.

Larry shook his head, "No. The jerk who made my beloved Jules cry!"

"J-Jewels? As in 'jewelry'? How could an inanimate object cry?" Miles was confounded by Larry's lack of logic.

"No! Julia! Jules!"

"Ah. You already found a . . . erhm. Partner, then?" Miles could only imagine the kind of woman who would be reeled in by the Butz.

"Yes! And she is mine, so back off!" Larry became increasingly defensive.

"I had exactly zero intentions on imposing. So, who is this man who made her cry?"

"I dunno. But as soon as I see him again, I'm gonna give him a taste of his own medicine! Yeah!" Larry looked awfully proud of himself, considering he more or less admitted to intentionally searching for a fight.

"If you get yourself into trouble, I will not come running to your defense. Seeing as you don't pay your legal fines in an appropriate timeframe."

"And why would I need your help?"

"Are you clueless on purpose or are you genuinely this dense? It is hard to imagine what life is like living through your limited scope."

"Well, if you wanna hear the whole story before you decide to discard my case, then I will gladly explain myself."

"I would rather not listen to your story."

Larry stared at Miles for a few seconds with beady eyes before delving right in. "So. There I was, walking the lovely Jules up to her floor. This guy orders her around then goes to lunch. About twenty minutes later, she comes down saying what a massive jerk he was! Saying how 'I'm not allowed to come up to eight anymore'! I mean, who does he think he is?"

"Larry. If you aren't working on floor eight, then you shouldn't be there. I see nothing wrong with that assessment and absolutely no reason to be worked up over it. Although there is one thing that strikes me as contradictory."

"Oh yeah? What is it?" Larry gave Miles a sideways glare, but Miles ignored it.

"You are waiting, right here, for this man to return from his lunch break, correct? That is your thought process?" If such a thing existed for the Butz, anyway.

"Yeah! So!? What of it?"

"Okay. Let me get this full story straight. You saw this man giving her work to do, then he went to lunch. Then he said something to . . . um . . . Jules after you parted ways, which somehow made her cry. And now you are waiting for him to return from lunch to yell at him. Does that sum it up?"

"Well. Yeah. Why?"

"Larry . . . I just spelled it out for you!"' Miles would wring Larry's neck if it was legally and morally correct to do so.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, man. Now are you going to let me defend my lady's honor or not?"

"Larry. Listen closely." Edgeworth said, "How could a man on break – who left the building grounds – also be the one who upset your girlfriend on floor eight? He would be in two different locations by your timing estimations."

"Huh . . .?"

"Think it through. I know you have at least one working braincell, otherwise you would be dead right now. Before you go telling off a man, make sure you at least have the right one first."

"Wh- WHHAAAAT!?" Larry screamed and alerted the entire lobby to their presence. Miles sighed but continued.

"Did it finally click?" Miles kept an eye on the people who were clued in on them. _Now that I am pegged as suspicious by approximation, this investigation should go over smoothly. Thank you, Larry, for being a magnetic trap for inevitable dilemma._

Larry huffed, still not satisfied. "Well, if you're so smart, then tell me who did upset Jules!"

"How should I know?" Miles whispered angrily, trying to distance himself from the gawking stares that lingered still. "I just got here a moment ago. You are the one who said something completely inane. Now I wish I had just let it slide!"

"Well. I only know of a few people in the legal department." Larry said, "Jervy. Jules. And that jerk. I don't know of anyone else."

"Did you say, 'legal department'?" Miles asked. Maybe having someone who partially knew the floorplans would be of some use, after all.

"Yeah. Eight has two wings. One is legal. The other. Well, I don't really know. You need badge access to go over there."

"They have an entire wing dedicated to legal. How interesting."

"Hey! You aren't thinking about ditching pops for Bluecorp are you?" Larry asked. "Wait! Wait! I thought you wanted to do something else?"

"Trust me, Larry. I have no intention of leaving my father for a place like this. No. I am just wondering what a legal division looks like in a company setting. I imagine they have liability and such to protect themselves. Most companies do hire legal advisors in preparation of being sued. But an entire wing? I wonder if that seems . . . excessive?"

Larry ignored all of what Miles said and asked, "So . . . you aren't looking for a career change?"

Miles exhaled sharply. _I wish I could talk to someone who could keep up. Well. Aside from Father, that is. _Speaking of Father Edgeworth, Miles purposefully left him in the dark about his current objective. It was better for everyone this way.

"No. Larry. I changed my mind just now. You said you were not allowed on eight anymore, right?"

"Well. That's not gonna stop me. Why?"

"I wonder if you wouldn't mind escorting me up?" _I can probably bluff my way through a legal division and look like I belong. I am a Defense Lawyer and can wear my lapel to prove it. The only problems I foresee are if they recognize me as an outsider. And . . . Larry._

"Yeah. Of course. . . . Do you still want to see that speech?"

"No. I have lost interest in it. Maybe we can discover the man who made Jules cry?" _I can use Larry as a distraction. With their attention drawn to him making a scene, I can do a quick thumb through and get an idea of what Bluecorp is hiding._

"Yeah! We can take care of that loser and make him regret ever getting her to cry!"

"Yes. Of course." _And I suppose I will bail you out, since I am setting you up as a scapegoat. . . He was going to make a scene, regardless. Why not use it to my advantage?_

"Edgy. Why are you smiling like that . . .? It's kinda creepy."

"Oh. No real reason. Onward."

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 2:28 PM

Phoenix took a large gulp of water as he read over documents. He translated the grievance documents, then Bluecorp's response . . . and all it did was reinforce his firm belief that Bluecorp deserved every mile of investigative work he had done and would eventually bring to light.

It had been just over an hour since he told Julia to discourage Larry from wandering around the legal areas. An hour of peace and ease.

He took another big sip of water, finding himself really thirsty today. He was mid-drink when he saw not only Larry – but Miles as well – strutting through like they belonged. Phoenix choked on the water, gasping as the bulk of it caught in his throat.

_Did Larry multiple into Miles!?_

What was this nightmare-esque hellscape of a day and how could he get it to stop? Did Phoenix insult the wrong gods? Not please the right ones? Was this karma for hurting Julia's feelings earlier?

_Not good. They're getting closer to me . . . Ahhhh! What do I do? _He ducked down and hoped they didn't notice the hair spiking above the cubicle wall.

"Dude!" Larry caught Miles' arm and pointed near Phoenix's location. Phoenix's internal screaming only grew louder but he had no choice but remain seated, and prayed Larry was spotting someone else. "That's the guy I saw in passing! He coulda been the one after all."

"Is. . . that right?" A pernicious smile crept on Miles face and he shrugged, "Well. You know what you came here for."

"Yeah! You're right!" Larry approached a cubicle a few rows passed where Phoenix was, while Miles slunk away to make distance.

_No. Miles wouldn't, would he? _Phoenix thought as he figured out Edgeworth's scheming. As Miles was focused on Larry and not much else, Phoenix slipped away from his desk and found a strategic location to watch the oncoming chaos.

"Hey! You! YEAH! YOU!" Phoenix could see Larry getting worked up and Miles smiling evilly in the corner. _You're not supposed to encourage this behavior, Miles! Although . . ._

"Why are you screaming?" The man Larry approached asked, "Hey. You aren't on this floor, are you? why are you here?"

"YEAH! Why am I here? WHY couldn't YOU COME TO ME? AND TELL ME yourself that I'M not allowed up HERE?"

_Why is Larry randomly screaming some words louder than others?_

"Um. What are you talking about? Do we need to call security?"

Phoenix watched Miles swipe a keycard from a nearby desk while everyone else was focused on Larry. _So, you did do this on purpose! Oh, you sneaky little bastard!_

Phoenix felt his insides begin to roll and a chuckle escape his throat. This whole situation bordered mania, but he could not pretend he did not enjoy a single second of his friends' special brand of crazy. Before security could be called and Miles associated with Larry, Miles snuck off down the hall.

_Alright, Miles. I see you don't realize yet the full danger of what you're doing, but damn if I can't appreciate the innovative genius you just displayed._

"Yeah! CALL SECURITY if you think you can't handle confrontation like a man!"

"Okay. Yeah. I'm calling security."

April May walked in and giggled, "Oh, I already did. They'll be up to escort this madman to detention shortly. Teehee."

_And Miles is already off in the restricted wing, I'm sure. Well played. _

Security came in moments later to remove Larry from the floor. As much as Phoenix wanted to step in, neither Larry or Miles took notice of his presence and so he chose to remain in the shadow of the private office doorway.

After the escort, Phoenix went over to the man Larry accused and asked, "Hey. Do you know what that was all about?"

"I have no idea." He shrugged, "People are insane."

"Well. I recognize him from earlier. I gave him that warning. He must have thought you were me."

"Oh. Yeah. Crazy, huh?" The man returned to his duties obviously done with the entire affair.

Phoenix asked another question, not taking the hint (or rather, not acknowledging it). "Yeah. Crazy. Very crazy. So . . . do you mind not pressing charges?"

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 2:43 PM

Well, the timing could not have been better for Miles. Since White went to do that speech, most of the secretary and other workers were scarce. He displayed the nametag and lapel to blend in and pretend he did belong for the remaining stragglers. No one cared and Miles was okay with that.

He felt bad for setting up Larry, but only a little. Larry would have gotten them both thrown out eventually, and Miles reasoned that he could sneak around best unhindered. That and, while a part of him did feel guilty, another felt vindicated.

The CEO's office and other important offices were beyond a walkway with windows on either side, showing a beautiful scenery of the city through both.

When Miles and Larry ended up on the eighth floor, he paid attention to who had access to the other door and found a matching badge that corresponded with such. Thankfully, both secretary and lawyer could walk in.

It was still too crowded in the legal division and would probably remain that way. If he waited for everyone else to go home for the evening (assuming he could play it off that long), then he could start accessing paperwork over in legal.

Speaking of illegal . . . all of what Miles did (causing a distraction via Larry, swiping a badge, and doing an unauthorized investigation) fell into _illegal _territory. But, as long as he used none of what he found today in an eventual trial, he should be fine . . .

Since this area was currently understaffed, Miles had a chance to probe. What to look for, though, he did not know. He was not a detective or a prosecutor, so the evidence would have to lead toward defense of someone.

According to his Father's testimony, White had many victims over the course of his decade long career and built his company on extortion. Surely, finding evidence to that would be easy enough to discover at the source of it all.

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 2:46 PM

". . . and that's why he probably would win an insanity plea," Phoenix concluded his bluffing, while managing to piss off his coworker in the process.

"Fine! I'll make it a point that Bluecorp will not benefit from suing this idiot. Is that satisfactory to you?"

Phoenix smiled goofily and nodded, "Oh yeah. Thanks."

"Yeah. Fine. Whatever. What's it to you, anyway?"

_Who twisted your panties in a bunch? _

"I just feel for the guy. He doesn't have a lot going for him."

The man sighed and shrugged, "And who's problem is that? His and his alone. I won't sue him, but I will definitely have him fired."

"That is all I ask," Phoenix smiled. Finally. Some good news.

Phoenix left and headed toward the restricted area, the CEO offices, to run interference for Miles and hopefully not get caught by him as a consequence.

"Arghh!" Someone growled, looking annoyed. Phoenix recognized the coworker and then the desk area he was at.

Playing dumb, Phoenix asked, "What's wrong?"

"I can't find my damn badge!"

"Well. Go to retrace your steps and look for it . . . if you can't find it, you'll have to request a new one."

"Yeah. I know. thanks, Einstein."

"No problem." _Asshole._

Some people left at 3:00 PM – others at 4:00. Those that linger passed 5:00 PM were just workaholics without much life outside of their careers.

Normally, Phoenix waited around for the late birds to finally depart and collected information, much like what Miles was currently doing. While Miles found his way inside White's actual office, Phoenix feared him being cornered in that area.

He saved his own data, backing it up to his cloud share, and disconnected his personal gadgets before using it to run a remote shutdown of White's recording devices. A partner of his knew how to work that technology, and Phoenix had manipulated feed data before after a quick study. This would allow Phoenix to show an empty office during the timeframe Miles snooped around in there.

_If only I could tell Miles that White doesn't keep incriminating evidence in his personal office. _No, the vault of incrimination lies elsewhere; Phoenix had visited it many times over the last few months. Although, Miles might find the recently sued paperwork if April had not filed them.

3:05 PM rolled around and Phoenix had to pretend he was moving from place to place in order to avoid suspicion. On one such move, he accessed the badge terminal and deleted the badge records from Miles' uses.

He heard the office open and quickly hid, seeing that Miles finally understood he was wasting his time. He made his way toward another office that stored all the juicy details Miles could possibly need. The only problem?

It required an actual key. Badge would not work, as Miles soon discovered. Phoenix swiped said key when he first started working and made a copy of it . . . What to do, what to do?

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 3:11 PM

Miles toggled the door handle after noticing a badge reader was not installed for this door. An old-fashioned lock and key, then? _Odd . . . every check point and locked door made use of the badge access levels. Whatever is behind this door must be extra sensitive. _

Which meant, whatever Miles came here for must exist beyond this door. Well, he did find some suing details on White's desk, but the Mexican layer of differentials made it unlikely for Miles to reach out . . . still, reading over that was frustrating, and knowing that man's creative ingenuity was stolen by Bluecorp only gave Miles the extra motivation to see this through.

Wait. Creative ingenuity? Entrepreneurship? Was White grooming the next generation into inadvertently giving up their designs?

Miles heard some coughing and footsteps from down the hall. He continued to act naturally, but he heard a voice say gruffly, "Yeah. Someone's badge was stolen earlier. Dunno by who, but guess he came down this way."

_Oh, great. I've been figured out already._

Miles hid in the closet and watched the hallway. A man in a blue suit and a . . . beanie hat(?) came into view and started to unlock the door. For some reason he stopped looked over his shoulder to the exit. "Oh, hi Melissa!" He yelled excitedly in a high-pitched voice, "Hey, how's Sarah's soccer league going?"

The man left and the hall and he heard a woman's(?) voice respond. "Oh yeah, she hit bogey a few times."

_Isn't bogey a golf term?_

The hall became quiet again. _He . . . left his keys in the door? _Miles had no idea what he just witnessed, but a single clumsy act from a worker here just gave him access to the one room he needed. _Strange. Almost like a . . . trap._

Miles waited a few more minutes before leaving his hiding spot, then he turned the door and it opened for him. _There's no way this was an act of God. Right? Am I going insane?_

Tuesday Afternoon, August 8th 2016 – 3:19 PM

Phoenix laughed hysterically in the bathroom, once he found no one else was there with him.

_Oh shit. I haven't had this much fun in ages! _He pulled the beanie off and noticed some loose hairs. He took off his glasses, then started to fix it when he hard someone open the door. He rushed to the bathroom stall and hid, stifling giggles.

_I probably should erase Miles' fingerprints while I am at it . . . _

The man left a few moments later, and phoenix came out of the stall. He continued to fix his hair after washing his hands and coming up with a plan for escorting Miles out of the building. There was the matter of making sure no harm came to Larry, either.

He put on the glasses once his hair was fixed and his hands were dried. Then he wore his gloves to start 'erasing' evidence that Miles ever entered Bluecorp.


	5. Fatherly Love

Chapter 5

Fatherly Love

Tuesday Evening – 3:30 PM

The locked room was promising and the key now in Miles' possession was on a carabiner with another key, which he could use to access the many cabinets in this room. He found profiles pointing to illegal and underhanded schemes in full detail within those files.

Even though it confirmed his Father's theory correct, Miles could not stand the thought of defending one of these 'victims', who were arguably just as bad. He wished he could find more 'intellectual property theft' that were in this country, but every file contained blackmail details.

While this was the wellspring of incriminating evidence, Miles was not in any position to wield it as a weapon. Sometimes, he secretly wished he was a prosecutor or some sort of 'switch' attorney, if such a thing existed.

What Miles then could do, he realized, was search under the 'W' section for 'Wright'. If Phoenix was a victim of Bluecorp, it would stand to reason that he should have a file. So, that is what he did. He searched for 'Wr' until he found 'Wright'. Then he searched for the P nested section after that.

(Patricia. Patrick. Penelope. Pierre. Pierce. Puck.) . . . No Phoenix. If only Miles knew what Phoenix's roommate was called. Then he could check for that portfolio . . .

_I should not be disappointed that Phoenix __**is**__**not a victim **__of blackmail__**. **__But at this point, I am looking for a solid lead that I am on the right track._

Phoenix was not a victim and had no job history to speak of in the States. Nothing on record, at any rate. He had an apartment with a fellow 'coworker' for lack of a better descriptor. They share in the same 'career' that remained locked away inside a bathroom. And somehow, all that related back to Bluecorp . . .

. . .Except that Phoenix had no file here and could not possibly be related.

Miles grew increasingly frustrated with all that he could not understand about this 'case'. Maybe when that woman said 'white', she truly indicated a different person?

Dubious income source.

Dubious cliental ran out of an apartment in the 'wrong' side of town.

Said cliental hired a service stored in the bathroom.

Unidentified woman sporting a gun and ready to shoot.

Lack of contact for several months.

The only logical conclusion? _**Criminal activity.**_

Miles considered himself a rational human being. If this were any other investigation, he would have declared this person 'guilty' and let the proper authorities handle it from there. But this was Phoenix, not just some random person off the street!

Miles sighed in defeat. Thirteen years could change a person in the worst possible way. That was what his father indicated . . . Maybe his father was correct. Maybe Phoenix truly turned to a life of crime.

Which was probably not the best realization to come to elbow deep in a corporation ready to blackmail for extortion. At any rate, Miles figured he should check in on Larry before it got too late to sort out this evening.

He hated to waste this opportunity, but Miles could not justify staying any longer, as he was trespassing, and in danger. _Where had my common sense gone? _He thought as he cleaned up his area (wiped prints down and etcetera), then left for the lobby.

He cleaned the ID badge and dropped it just before the elevators, and immediately left the premises using the stairs. He dared not linger any longer than necessary. Luckily, he had gone unnoticed throughout the entire affair.

Tuesday Evening – 4:13 PM

"Sorry, vising hours are over," The guard said through the first checkpoint, lazily reading a magazine.

"I am here to post bail."

"Name?" The man barely looks up.

"Larry Butz."

The man types this name in and replied, "Already released."

"T-Truly?" Miles was not expecting that.

"They're not pressing charges."

"Oh. Good. Yes." Miles left, wondering how a company called _Bluecorp _elected trying against an easy case against Butz, let alone the man that Larry threatened.

Tuesday Evening – 4:34 PM

Larry sat himself quite comfortably on the sofa once again, watching the news while his father sat at his desk per usual.

"Yo! Edgey! Why'd you ditch me, man?"

"M-My apologies." Miles quickly said, hoping to draw Larry away from his father before he had to explain his earlier behavior, "I didn't want to interrupt your defending."

"Miles." Gregory said shortly. Terrifyingly. _Oh god. He already knows. _"Have a seat. We need to talk."

"Y-Yes father." Miles sat down across from him but found it hard to look him in the eye.

If Gregory noticed, he did not comment. Instead, he said, "Larry told me everything."

"E-Everything, huh?"

"I am very disappointed in you. I thought you had better sense than that, Miles. You could have been arrested for trespassing. You could have been disbarred, even, if they could prove you were actively seeking evidence against Bluecorp without a warrant. But most importantly, you could have gotten either yourself or Larry killed today."

Miles listened to his father, reality truly sinking in. He had not been acting logically at all. Miles meekly answered, "Yes. Father." Miles had earned Gregory's judgement.

There was a silence in the air before Miles said, "I am not . . . going to make excuses for my actions."

"Apologize to your friend."

"U-Ugh." Miles turned to face Larry, his face burning, "S-Sorry, Larry."

"Uh. What for?" Larry must have been clueless when explaining Gregory about his day; still, Larry handed the loaded gun to his father unwittingly. This was humiliating.

"Explain to him Miles, why you are sorry. I believe Larry has yet to figure out what you did wrong."

"I . . . allowed you to . . . cause a distraction so I could search Bluecorp. When I should have stopped you instead."

"D-Duude? That's why you –! Oh. Wow." Larry stood up and checked his pockets for his car key and phone.

"L-Larry?"

"Gotta go."

Miles sensed a mood coming from Larry, "Wait a moment. How did you get out of detention? The officer said they weren't going to press charges, but I still don't understand why?"

"Dunno. They said it wasn't worth their time. But I guess lotsa people think that. See you, Edgey."

Larry left, making Miles a lone prisoner of his father's extreme dissatisfactory stare. Gregory finally spoke, "Miles. I think you just lost a friend. And I side with your friend on this."

"Right." Miles lowered his head.

"I can't believe you'd do something like this! To anyone! Honestly, Miles. I'm having a hard time here."

Miles murmured, "It . . . It won't happen again."

"Your behavior lately is troubling. I have allowed it thus far because I knew how much you wanted what you're chasing. But none of your actions are justifiable."

"Agreed, father." _I . . . feel like a little kid._

"You will not go to Bluecorp. You will not go to those apartments. And you will never betray another person, friend or alleged enemy, **ever** again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

"Y-Yes, Father."

"Good. You are dismissed now."

_Dismissed? When have I ever been 'dismissed' before? _"Sh-should I prepare a meal?"

"I do not wish to dine with you tonight."

"Oh." Honestly that stung worse than anything else Gregory had said. Miles said after attempting to swallow a dried out throat, "Well. Tomorrow, then?"

"I also do not wish to consider you a member of my Law Office."

That retort had Miles mouth hang open before he caught himself and said, "W-What? Father?"

"If you were anyone else right now, Miles, I would have fired you. No questions asked. Then, I would have you reported. Do you understand it, yet?"

"D-Does that mean . . .?"

"Tomorrow. 8:00 AM sharp. I will evaluate my decision and let you know by then. Dismissed."

Miles left hurriedly and Gregory let out the hugest sigh once his son is gone.

"Don't you think you were too harsh?" A man who had been listening in, apparently, said as he came in.

"No. he needs to learn actions have real consequences. Something I thought he already knew."

"You aren't letting him go, though?" A man with long brown hair smiled and sat across Gregory, "Not really?"

"If he were anyone else –"

"But he isn't. he's your boy and you love him too much."

Gregory kneaded his temples and answered, "I do. My world would shatter if anything ever happens to him."

"You'll forgive him. What friend hasn't pulled a stunt like this before. Not one got hurt."

"This time," Gregory corrected, "You do not treat people like gutter trash. Especially not friends. The world is so full of people ready to throw another under the bus. Miles will not be one of them."

"Well," The other man rolled his shoulders, "He did go to the detention center. He did make sure Larry got out. Eh. I'm done with this – it's ultimately up to you, sir. Want take-out?"

"Now that I know both Larry and Miles are safe, I am starting to feel hungry. You can choose, Ray."

"See? That's the spirit! Sir."

Tuesday Evening – 4:41 PM

"Ugh! Why won't my car start?" Larry twisted the key in the ignition, but all it would do was sputter.

"Larry?" Miles asked.

"What's up, man?"

"About today –" Miles was not good with these types of sentiments, but he truly acknowledged he acted in the wrong. That did not stop Larry from cutting in and dismissing it.

"It's okay. Really. I always knew where we stood."

"Larry, I –"

"Now I just. Really. Truly. Know." He turned the key a few more times and . . . nothing. "So, thanks. I'll pay you back for defendin' me. Then you'll never, ever have to deal with me again."

"Is that not a bit of an extreme reaction? Let's talk this through . . ."

"Why should I?"

"Well, for starters it does not look like you appear to be going anywhere, fast." Miles said rather sardonically. Larry shrugged, hopped down from the truck, and started walking. _Or . . . you could do that._ "Larry, wait! Hold it!"

"What's there to talk about? I know I'm just some joke to you."

"You . . . You . . ." Words of encouragement, where would you be at a time like this?

"You can't even pretend!" Larry stopped cold in his tracks and pointed at the defeated Miles. "Hah! Not that I'm surprised or nothin'."

"I am sorry. I should not have risked your safety."

Larry actually considered his apology, thankfully, but replied in typical Butz fashion, "Sorry enough to erase my debt?"

"Uh." Miles had nothing witty, only the truth this time, "You will have to negotiate with my father about that."

"Pfft. Okay. Whatever."

"I may not have a job come tomorrow. You will have to speak with . . . Mr. Edgeworth on your debt. I have no say in the matter."

"What. Really?" Larry almost looked gleeful. Almost.

"Yes. Don't seem so happy, Larry."

"Heh. It's all good. I know for sure I lost mine today." He really did seem happy about that personal loss, more so than Miles'.

"So . . . do you forgive me?"

"Yeah. I mean. I was going to yell at that guy with or without you. me endin' up in detention woulda happened anyway."

"Not if I had stopped you, it wouldn't. I used that to my advantage and assumed you would be left unharmed. That . . . was a careless error."

"Forget it, man. I'm all good. You and I get to be unemployed and job shopping homies together!"

_That is not what I need to hear right now. _"Larry. Bluecorp is a dangerous company. If they do press charges or do anything against you, no matter what it is, you let me know immediately."

"Why so serious alla sudden?"

Miles sighed and pulled out his keys, "Let's go back to my apartment. We can call a tow and I will explain everything."

"Oooh! Okay!" Larry excitedly ran to the passenger seat. Miles realized that Larry's truck being here must have been extra effort to retrieve.

"Larry. How did you get your car here?" Miles asked.

"Oh. I . . . I signed my release papers and called Jules . . . she picked me up so I could get it."

"Ah. Jules. Right." What an odd name. "Do you have a copy of those papers?"

"Yeah? Want me to get them?"

". . . That may come in handy later." Larry retrieved the document for Miles at his request, and Miles carefully stored it between his seats for a later check.

Tuesday Evening – 5:01 PM

_I explained to Larry about what happened at Phoenix's apartment and the true reason I went to Bluecorp. Aside from the sudden and loud noises he made, Larry stayed silent throughout my retelling._

"So . . ." Larry finally said as they went inside, "You think Nicky got himself wrapped up in Bluecorp?"

"I have no idea," Miles unlocked the door with Larry's release papers under his armpit, "Nothing – and I mean **nothing **– links him to Bluecorp, other than what his roommate said." _I may have omitted the fact that Phoenix is with a woman. I really couldn't bear the thought of wasting time worrying if he was 'with her' or not._

"That's . . . yeah . . . it's weak."

_Even Larry can see that. _"Yes. it is."

"Whew! Must suck being wrong for once! Heh . . . heheh . . . hah . . . just kidding?"

"Am I wrong? Is there any way to prove Phoenix is innocent?" Miles mused to himself.

Larry shrugged and made himself at home on Miles' sofa this time, then added his pointless commentary, "Well I doubt it at this point."

"Larry." _You do better, then._

"What! Don't scowl! I'm just sayin' what I think!"

"I know you are." Miles exchanged the file Larry gave him for the note Phoenix stored in the puzzle, which sat on the end table in the living room. "Take a look at this note and tell me your thoughts on it." Miles began double checking the paperwork while still standing.

"Uh. Okay." Larry accepted the short note and was readily confused by it. "What's this mean? 'I bet that was too easy for you, huh'?"

"That note is referencing this puzzle box. That note was in the inner compartment." Miles set the puzzle box on the coffee table.

Larry scrunched his face. "Ah. I guess I see. 'I'm not taking visitors right now'? What? Who sent this?"

"I believe it was Phoenix."

"What? Dude? You're slipping, man!"

"Look at the stamp at the end."

"A blue samura-aiiiii! Holy crap! It IS him, isn't it!?" Larry yelled far louder than he needed to.

"That is what I believe, yes."

"Did you tell your old man?"

"No," Miles wondered if he should. He wondered if Gregory would acknowledge it at this point.

"That's so unlike you."

"Beg your pardon?" Miles looked at Larry with a sideways glance.

"You never keep secrets from him! Ever!"

Miles felt a shockwave hit him. "You are . . . right. What am I doing?"

"That's called 'spiraling', yeah? You're getting defensive because you and Nick were close."

"Hmm?" Miles shook his head, "Don't you mean the three of us were close?"

"Uh. Oh. Well. I dunno. I always felt like a . . . yeah, let's not use 'third wheel', that's kinda . . . anyway. Yeah."

"I think I see what you're trying to ineloquently say."

"Not my fault the two of you were just super close. Like. Really. Really. Really close."

_We were, weren't we . . .?_

". . . I can't let my emotions overlook the truth. I have already seen evidence that points to one conclusion. Whatever Phoenix is doing, it is illegal. He is a criminal." _Do I sound convincing? I don't feel it._

"Yeah." Larry found the remote but did not push any buttons. "Maybe".

"What, do you doubt it?"

"Nicky was always followin' the rules and stuff. Yeah. What his dad did was crap and he's probably mentally screwed after a stunt like that . . . but . . ."

"People change, Larry." Miles could not focus on that paperwork, so he sat down in the recliner but kept his back perfectly straight and shoulders squared.

"So! What do you think he's guilty of anyway!"

"What he is guilty of?"

"Runnin' a shady business? That ain't crime – well, I guess it depends on what he's selling. So. What is he sellin'?"

Miles looked at the wall and said, "I have yet to find out."

"Well, until you do, you can't just call him guilty, right? Who's gonna defend him otherwise?"

"Defend him from whom, exactly?" _I am being lectured by Larry. This day shall be marked in my calendar._

"I dunno. Your pops? The police?"

"Hmm. Strange. I feel better now. You have my gratitude, Larry. I just wish I could figure out what is going on." Deflection was always a strong suit of Miles when it came to a topic he no longer wished to discuss.

"You always do, in the end, right?"

"Well. I will have to review all that I know so far. Which, admittedly, is severely lackluster."

"I'm gonna call that tow, then order a pizza while you do your thing. What's the addresses? Kinda need to know for both, haha."

"You'll find them in the kitchen underneath the telephone."

"Kay."

_Part of my problem is the clear lacking direction. My focus is too split._

Miles pulled out a notebook and started writing.

_Do I consider Bluecorp a part of my findings? There wasn't much there pertaining to Phoenix, but, Intellectual Theft – the theft of ingenuity – leaves these inventors and entrepreneurs with ruined prospects. So, there is __**something **__there. Just not entirely relevant._

Bluecorp:

The roommate may be a victim of White / Bluecorp. Not Phoenix.

Bluecorp may be stealing ideas.

Extortion victims are also caught doing illegal activities.

Therefore, blackmail victims may also be criminals as well

Wright's roommate may then be a criminal if the first point is true.

Miles said aloud, "The connection to Bluecorp lies with her. Not Wright. If only I knew her name."

Roommate:

Deals at Wright's residence. Not an actual designated living space.

Is possibly a criminal possible blackmail victim.

Owns a gun and willing to use it, apparently.

Is in trouble regardless of the above, considering her actions.

Deals with clients.

Larry came back in. Done ordering both a tow and the pizza.

"How does she know Wright?" Miles asked, then realizing his mistake. He said 'she' around Larry. Surprisingly that is not what he questioned.

"'Wright'?"

"Phoenix."

"Yeah. I know. you never call him 'Wright', though . . ." Larry settled back down in his claimed seat.

_Ah. I must be on the right track. I am starting to see him as either a suspect or a client myself._

"I got that veggie whatever, by the way. The nasty thing you like."

"Oh. Thank you." Miles wasn't sure how to take that, honestly.

"No problemoo – er No problem!"

_I'm not even going to ask. _"I know very little about the – er – roommate. What do I know, unbiasedly, about Wright?"

Wright

No job listed.

Is able to afford an apartment, despite the above.

Shares it with a roommate. Not a designated living space.

Has clients.

"Could the roommate be the one paying rent and bills?" Miles asked, but mostly for and to himself. "Well. He could afford to gift me a puzzle box, so Wright does have money. Implied income. Based on services or products run from his apartment."

"How could he start making money without first having an apartment?" Larry asked.

"That," Miles considered it for a moment, "Is a strangely good observation."

"I can be insightful and stuff." Larry stood up to look over what Miles wrote down, "Yeah. That ain't much to go on."

"I need something substantial. But my investigation has already come to an end."

"Says who?" Larry asked rebelliously and ready to start shouting.

Miles felt sheepish again. "My father." _And Phoenix, technically._

"Oh. Yeah." Larry plopped back down and grabbed the puzzle box, "Guess not then."

"Don't lose any of the pieces." Miles became strangely protective of the box. And why not? It was beautifully designed, albeit a bit on the easier side.

"I'm careful. How do these things work?"

"There's an instruction sheet."

"Oh. Kay! Gimme!" Miles sighed and retrieved the instructions for Larry. While Larry fumbled with the box, even with the instructions, Miles struggled with his own mental match, moving in circular logic. One thing dependent on the others to work, but none had supports.

_Bluecorp __ Criminals __ Blackmail __ Wright's Roommate_

_Bluecorp __ Intellectual Theft __ Undergraduate students_

_Wright and his Roommate __ Service unidentifiable __ locked bathroom . . ._

_Water damage?_

_Services and Bluecorp?_

The only way he could answer any of these processes was through evidence. Miles sighed and Larry took out some pieces.

"Urgh!" Larry growled. Miles witnessed his display and exhaled again. _If you break that box, Larry . . . Right. I have to be more patient with him._

Through resilient effort and determination, Larry finally removed enough pieces for the hollow compartment to be exposed.

"Congratulations. You cracked the puzzle box." Miles tried to be less sarcastic while saying that, but it was a natural tone for him.

"Oh. Really? This opening where you found that note?" Larry asked.

"Yes. and those instructions." Miles smiled, knowing he could solve what Larry couldn't without cheats.

"Um. Edgey? I'd hate to be the one that tells you this . . . but . . ."

"Yes, Larry?"

"I'm only halfway through the instructions."

"You're – wait, what?" Miles leaned forward, alerted to this new information.

Larry nodded, "Yeah. Kinda weird. It says to 'remove the center square and slide the octangular base clockwise'. Wait! Which way is clockwise!?"

"L-Let me see that for a moment." _Half solved? __**Half solved?**_

"But it's my turn to – " The doorbell rang suddenly, catching Larry's attention perfectly. "Ooh! Pizza's here!"

Miles swiped the box and muttered, "Yes. Pizza."

Tuesday Evening – 5:06 PM

"Better?" Raymond Shields asked as he dropped his utensils in victory over his finished meal.

Gregory nodded, "Much."

"Heh. The color's returning anyway. . . sir."

Gregory let out a laugh of his own, "Sometimes, I forget, since it's been so long."

"Um. Sir?"

"Ah. Lost in my own thoughts. Miles, in many ways, could be more of a clone than my child. I was . . ahem. . . an avid reader as a child. My passion to learn left me with very few friends – and even if I did make them, I chose the books over them. I understood children very little, even as one. When. . ." Gregory took a long pause. Ray waited patiently for his mentor to continue.

"When my wife passed away, and left me with four-year-old Miles to take care of . . . I . . . was at the lowest point in my life. I was scared. Panicking, even. And so lost."

"My condolences, I know that couldn't be easy. I can't picture you panicking, though." Raymond tried to lighten the mood that suddenly dropped without a hint of forewarning.

"My understanding for children was never as good as hers. I was limited. Out of my field, as it were. I never actually baby-talked to Miles, before or after her passing. I never understood why people did in the first place."

Ray laughed as he normally did, "I can't imagine Miles taking that well. Some random grocery store lady probably tried goo-gooing at him at one point, I'd imagine."

"Hm. Now that you mention it, I do recall an instance of something like that." Gregory teased.

"Oh yeah?"

"A church lady on a Sunday morning. We were at a pancake house and she sat beside us with a group of ladies. She said something childish or childlike to Miles, who was probably two and half at the time. He just stares at her the entire time. Never blinks, smiles, frowns, or cries. Just stares."

"Priceless! That's great! what happened to the church lady?"

"It made her uncomfortable and she did not acknowledge the three of us the entire time after that. It took me a lot of gentle encouraging for Eleanora not to confront that woman."

"Eleanora? Was that your wife?"

"Yes. Beautiful mother of my child who was too proud to hear the people next to us whisper about, 'that strange unsmiling child'. To be fair, Miles only smiled at a handful of people."

"Even as a baby, he didn't like people thinking he was stupid. Sounds right."

"Quite. Thinking on it, Eleanora never baby-talked to Miles, either."

"Eleanora was a . . . confrontational, no-nonsense woman, then?"

"'Strong-willed' is the word you're looking for," Gregory took a sip of his water. Ray knew just from being Gregory's understudy, that if he started to drink what was in front of him _like that_, Gregory started growing uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

"Does Missus Edgeworth have to do with 'what' was so long ago that 'you had nearly forgotten'?" Ray asked after giving Gregory a moment to recompose.

"Miles may look like me and have very similar habits and mannerisms. But that sharp tongue and icy glare? Even icier than the one I sometimes have in court? That would be Eleanora's doing."

"Really. Wow." Raymond was picturing a woman with a stern, mean look in her eyes and constantly berating Mr. Edgeworth. "When in doubt about Miles' behavior, blame his mother. Sounds like a bold strategy."

"If only she were here to hear you say that. I am not sure you would walk out of here with your dignity intact."

"Did . . . she . . . y'know?" Ray leaned forward and whispered, "Glare at you while exchanging your vows of eternal love?"

"Glaring isn't exactly accurate. Nor is it inaccurate." Gregory nodded slowly.

"Haahh!"

"At any rate, I could see her concocting a strategy that would place someone in jail temporarily if it got her access to the inaccessible. That is definitely Eleanora's child, too."

Raymond was curious about her, "And what did the missus do for a living?"

"She was the principle of an elementary school."

"Bet the kids there never crossed her." Ray commented without skipping a beat.

"That they did not. She scared everyone. Fair. Of course. She was not constantly unapproachable, mind you. she just knew what she wanted, when she wanted, and damn you if you got in her way! . . . Sounds a lot like Miles, actually."

"Yeah. It does. How'd you end up with a school principle?"

"That is a long story. One I do not wish to speak on."

"Okay." Ray said after Gregory took a long sip of his water. "Don't want to make you think too hard on sorrowful memories."

"They aren't sorrowful until . . . you remember you can't make any more of them." Gregory stared longingly into his dried cup, then went to refill it. At least it was only just water . . . "It is my philosophy to treat the people you love with care and treat those you cannot stand with propriety. That is why I felt so disappointed. But now I think you are correct. He wasn't entirely being malicious."

"Heh. I think he got the message. You aren't really gonna cast him out, are you?"

"No. of course not." Gregory would never.

"Nah. Didn't think so. He'll listen to you and go back to your ways in now time."

"I want him to stand on his own principles." Gregory nodded, "But there are few things in this world that I cannot tolerate. Cruelty is one of them."

"I get you, sir. I don't think he was being cruel, though."

"I hope you're right, Ray. Well, let us change the topic, since you're here." Gregory sighed, "What do you remember, if anything at all, about a case in 2003? It was regarding a man named Dennis Wright."

"Hmm. Wright. Oh, I think I remember. You were the key witness for the prosecution. That was a bit of a twist from the norm."

"I was a little more than a 'key witness', but yes." Gregory nodded.

Ray raised his eyebrow, "More than? Is my memory really that far gone?"

"Just wait 'til you're my age. Everything becomes a struggle." Gregory joked before answering, "I was the one who reported the crime in."

"Oh. Right. You found the body. I forgot all about that. Why do you bring it up?"

"The child from that case – now an adult male – has decided to come home. I need to know why." Gregory said flatly and without emotion.

"'Why', huh? Any particular reason?"

"That child is another one of Miles' close friends. Only, I do not – cannot – trust him at this point. Not until I know his reasons behind his choices thus far."

"You want my help, sir?"

"Yes. only," Gregory hesitated, "There is something I found out today, regarding Mr. Dennis Wright."

"Oh yeah?" Ray smiled brightly, "I am all ears, sir."

Notes:

I have played through Miles Investigations 1, but not 2. I know of Ray though. I am assuming Ray was too young to have met Edgeworth's while Miles' mother / Gregory's wife, whom I have named Eleanora, was alive. Miles' mother was never mentioned in the games, as far as I know, which means that she passed when Miles was pretty young. (More likely, she was never given much thought in the first place.)


	6. Phoenix and Phoenix Wright

Phoenix and Phoenix Wright

Tuesday Evening – 5:48 PM

"So, that's how it is." Raymond agreed. It all sounded fishy. "That's some spectacular timing."

Gregory nodded, "If I'm right, Phoenix came home because of Dennis Wright. And that cannot be a good thing."

"Give the boy some credit, eh? He hasn't done anything too extreme."

Gregory raised an eyebrow, "He's running a business out of an apartment. His business partner has a gun, threatened to shoot, has enemies herself, and they both keep their 'merchandise" behind a locked bathroom door. Please explain to me how that points to anything positive?"

"Uh. Well. It's not murder, at least?" Raymond laughed, "Eh. I'll defend him if nothing else. Get him a plea deal of some sort. You're right for the most part, though. If Dennis is the true reason he came home, who knows what his motivations are in the end."

"With news like that, it would be more surprising if he had stayed in France. Which, if you could –"

Ray put on his hat, which matched Gregory's, and nodded, "Got it. I'll look into Phoenix's French records. I should be able to transfer and translate them by the end of tomorrow night."

"I would greatly appreciate that." Gregory forced a smile, but something in his gut was telling him this situation was far worse than he originally assumed.

Monday October 15, 2001 – After Lunch Recess

A lady in a white sweater and comfortable blue jeans held onto Phoenix's coat. There was a hint of red in her dark blonde hair. The day started off a lot chillier and warmed up, leading the kids to abandon their heavy wear. Gregory, who had already met Mr. Butz, saw Mrs. Wright and they approached her together.

"So, you must be Mrs. Wright," Gregory reached out his hand to shake hers, and she freed one of her hands to return the greeting. "It is a pleasure to finally meet the parents of Miles' close friends."

"Seems like those boys get along great," Mr. Butz nodded and shook Mrs. Wright's hand as well.

Mrs. Wright smiled and said, "It does at that. Nice to meet you both. My name is Faine."

"Most people call me Bobby. Pleasure." Mr. Butz said.

"Mine is Gregory. I suppose it would be a wise choice to exchange contact information, if these children want to start spending time together outside the classroom."

"Sounds good to me." Faine nodded, looking for a scrap piece of paper. Gregory had his notebook in his breast pocket and a pen and loaned her both. He then gave both his business card, which had his office and personal numbers and addresses.

Bobby had the same for a mom and pop automotive mechanic repair. Faine wrote down her information, and the three parents exchanged notes, as if it were valentine's day.

Once that was finished, Bobby said, "Sorry, gotta go. Work and all. Tell Larry if y'all see him."

"Will you not tell him yourself?" Faine asked.

"Nah. I'll see the boy tonight."

Gregory nodded. A lot of the parents already left as well, "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Yup. Same. Later!"

"Goodbye, Mr. Mechanic!" She chuckled as she read over both of the business cards.

"Hah. Just Bobby'll do. See ya 'round." Bobby wandered off toward the parking lot, leaving Faine and Gregory to watch the three boys. Phoenix and Larry were running around in what looked like a game of tag, while Miles watched them between reading and contemplation.

"I will also need to return to the office. Oh. I am a Defense Lawyer. What is it that you do, Mrs. Wright?"

"Oh, just call me Faine," She pocketed the cards and clarified, "I am a stay at home mother. Best job in the world, if I do say so myself. Oh. But I do illustrate children's books from time to time. I do tend to volunteer at the library as well. If you'd count either of those as 'jobs'."

"Children's books?" Gregory asked.

"I am in awe by the arts. Children like bright colors and I like bright colors. I also love a good high fantasy adventure."

"I see." Gregory could not relate. "Faine is an interesting name. I am not sure that I've heard it before."

"It's a nickname."

"That makes sense. What is it a nickname for?"

Faine laughed and admitted, "Phoenix. Yes, I named my son after myself. To be fair, it is a family tradition that started a few generations ago."

"That's an interesting tradition." Gregory also thought that Phoenix was an uncommon name.

"My family holds names in high regard. My ancestors started the tradition of naming the first-born child after the mythical creature, but also retain our common name. To differentiate, we are given nicknames or are called by our middle names."

"Is 'Wright' your original surname, then?"

"Oh, no. I broke that tradition. It was easier to move into my husband's name and family than keep my own."

"I see. What was your maiden name that your ancestors treasured?" Gregory could not help but ask. It was an unusual tale already.

"Will'O. That's Will," She paused then made the 'OK' sign with her hands, "'O. like in Will'O'Wisp."

"Ah." Even more bizarre, then.

"Okay, you got me. More like, Will'O is short for Will'O'Wisp. My ancestor created this surname herself and expected her descendants to carry it. Which they did. I do know the traditions behind both names, though the explanations tend to run sane people off."

"Hard to fathom why. Will of the wisps are caused by a decomposition of gases."

Faine nodded, "I know the scientific explanation. I have heard it many a time. But do you know the ethereal reasons?"

"No, not anymore." Gregory shrugged, "I dismissed the folklore aspects and reasoned that it was due to the lack of scientific knowledge that our forefathers had. I have forgotten the fanatical reasons."

A gentle brushing of the wind gusted as Faine said, "Woosh. Gregory. This world is more complex than a makeup of elements and gases. Can you scientifically explain love? Or the desire to reach out and to see the ones who have passed?"

"Technically, both are due to a chemical reaction in the brain. That goes for all emotions we experience."

She smiled weakly, "I see that we are very different people. Not that I mind, really. Well, I will simply explain it like this. The will'o'wisps mean two things, depending on who you are to me. For some, it is hope and light. For others, it is despair and dread."

"Those are polar opposites." Gregory observed.

"That is most certainly the point."

"I cannot help but think that line of rationale to be narcissistic. I apologize if I offended you, but that is a very bold assertation."

"Life is all about connections. And we cross many people's paths along this journey of ours."

Gregory refrained from further insinuation on his part and asked, "Then, it is symbolic?"

"Yes. Symbolic. Also quite vain. Tell me, do you know which phoenix is the most unique?"

"I cannot say that I have thought much about a fictional character, no." Gregory remembered something about revival, but his mythical knowledge had never been all that great.

"The blue flame burns the brightest and hottest. The blue phoenix does as well."

Gregory could not help himself. He said, "Well, yes, blue flame is at its highest combustion point."

"The spiritual meaning and the scientific meanings overlap, do you notice this? Our predecessors could not have known that, yet it is symbolically portrayed. I wonder why that is?"

Gregory had a hypothesis, "Perhaps those men must have conducted experiments and concluded that blue flames do indeed have a higher temperature to that of its comparable colors."

"Were they all men that experimented in that?" Faine asked.

"Hmm." Gregory was sure that women have included themselves in the science fields over the ages. But, "I cannot say I know of any women right off hand."

Faine frowns a little and cleared her throat. ": Émilie du Châtelet. She submitted her paper, _Dissertation sur la nature et la propagation du feu_, which explains her theory that different colors of light carried different heat. She figured out the concept of infrared radiation before it was a known phenomenon. "

Faine recited the entire French title perfectly, which left Gregory a bit stunned. "O-Oh. Is that a fact? How . . . interesting."

"It is. She is not alone. Even women who were cast out still sought those answers." Faine explained.

"My apologies. It does make sense that there were women who held those interests."

"It's alright. Humans want to learn; it is encoded into our nature. To deny any human that basic curtesy is an afront to that nature. As there are women who dive into the sciences, there are men who turn to spiritualism. However, there is always overlap. We are multicomplex, after all."

Gregory nodded – why did it feel like he was debating in a courtroom? "I can agree with your points."

"Hmm. So. Man of science – would you so readily discount the spiritualistic side of things?"

"There is truly no way to measure it. And there are plenty of fake 'research' material out there."

She simply laughed, "Maybe one day you will give it genuine thought. Looks like recess is about to end."

Larry and Phoenix ran, rushing at the sound of the first warning bell. Miles was slowly trailing behind them.

"And how are you handsome boys doing?" Faine asked with a huge smile.

"M-Mom!" Phoenix blushed in embarrassment.

"Good!" Larry grinned at the attention, "And yourself?"

"I am doing just fine, thank you for asking! Your dad had to leave already, Larry, but he sends his love." Faine was a genuinely pleasant person to be around, but a bit out there, Gregory noted.

"Cool." Larry seemed indifferent, "I'll see him tonight."

"And how are you, Miles?" She greeted once he caught up, "Glad you could make it!"

"I do not need to run. We still have one more bell and a few more minutes before class resumes."

"Ah of course. That is a pretty hefty book. What do you have there?"

Miles seemed annoyed, but answered, "Law practices throughout the generations. Changes in methodologies from the beginning of this country's founding to present day."

Phoenix stayed quiet, feeling that subject was beyond his understanding, while Larry pulled a face and stuck his tongue out at it.

"How fascinating! I grew up under a self-governed reserve. Under what is known as the 'reservation system', my clan was allowed to enact their own laws. You'd find them to be vastly different from California's, despite existing within the state border."

"Really?" Miles switched from mildly irritated to invested in a split second, flipping to the index and looking up 'reservation system'. "Oh. Yes. I remember reading about this before. You are from a reserve? How different is it?"

"Very different. The Mitama reserves spans across several villages and temples. Each village is governed by the Mitama Law."

"Which law system does Mitama have?" Miles asked.

"I would have to dig up some old doctrine, but I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem."

"I would like to read it over if you can find it."

"Sure! I'll send it with Phoenix if I do."

Phoenix looked up at his mother and nodded, "Oh. Sure thing."

Gregory intervened, "Well, I suppose we should let you return to your education. I will see you later, Miles."

"Yes Father. Thank you for coming today."

"Of course. It was great to meet all of you."

"Yup. See ya, Mr. Edgeworth! Bye Mrs. Wright!" Larry took off in a full sprint to the classroom. Miles extended a formal farewell to Mrs. Wright and followed after Larry unhurriedly.

Faine leaned forward to Phoenix and handed him back his coat. "Have a good rest of your day, my bluest flame." She lightly touched Phoenix's nose and he laughed.

"Okay! Love you, mom!"

"Love you!" She waved at him while he ran off. The symbolism of what she called her son was not lost on Gregory.

"I have never seen Miles take to someone so quickly before." He admitted. It seemed like both Phoenix and Phoenix Wright had a way to pull people in.

"Well. Most people's mistakes start with underestimating children's intelligence simply because they are young. The second mistake they make is to immediately dismiss or deflect their interests. At the end of the day, it's not what I am interested in that matters."

"I see. You engaged him intellectually in a subject he likes."

She nodded. "Sometimes, that's all there is to it."

Tuesday Evening – 5:54 PM

Gregory sighed. The first time he met Flaine and all the subsequent times ended up in a philosophical and respectfully temperate engagement of ideals, reasons, beliefs, and sciences. She was a well-educated woman but held some far-fetched views.

At the end of the day, however, everyone who knew her concluded the same thing: she **did not** deserve her fate.

Tuesday Evening – 5:54 PM

Miles rotated the base and unlocked a compartment. Miles assumed the square bolt he originally saw was to keep the puzzle intact. It was actually a small bit to the final compartment. Once the base slid out of the way, a final twist popped out and yielded a rolled up, small black cylinder canister, that stood 2 inches high and 1 inch across. It fit perfectly inside this condensed hiding spot.

"You, Edgey." Larry said, carrying in the boxes, "There's a package by the door."

"Who is it from?" _I don't recall seeing a package earlier. _Still, Miles was uninterested in the package he passed and instead unscrewed the canister's lid.

Larry set the pizzas down in the kitchen, went to the door to pick up the package, and then answered, "No name on it."

"No sender or a recipient?" Miles looked up, curiosity now piqued.

"Yeah."

_Isn't that how he gave me the puzzle box? _

"One thing at a time," Miles dumped the interior of the canister in his hand.

"Medicine bottle?" Larry asked.

Miles shook his head, "Film canister. Film rolls are stored in here." _Hmm. Film rolls?_

"So, what was in there?"

Miles unfolded another note and read it out so Larry could hear it, "It says, 'Sometimes the truth is buried a level deeper.'"

"Uhh . . . Okay?" Larry looked at the instructions again after setting down the package.

Miles retorted, "What, are you a fortune cookie, Wright?"

Larry laughed and said, "Right!? Weird." Larry took the puzzle box and looked inside the new cavity. He unexpectedly shoved his pointer finger in it.

"What in blazes are you doing?" Miles felt his anger spike, "Would you stop . . . being weird with my box?"

"Dude, I'm not fingering your – uh . . ." Larry quickly finished what he was trying to accomplish and pulled out a string with one final note on it. Larry read it this time, as he found it, and the color nearly drained from his face, "Dude. I'm scared."

"Why?" Miles still could not put together how Larry knew to do that. It must have been written in those instructions, which Miles neglected to look at. Instead of reading it, though, Larry handed Miles the note.

'I bet Larry's the one who learned of the second compartment and pulled the string.'

"Oh, what –" _How is Phoenix doing this? _"We need to see what is in that package." Miles concluded.

"I gotta boxcutter," Larry pulled it out and said, "Let's see what's inside."

"An album?" Miles raised an eyebrow, "What does that stickit note say?"

"'Y'all a bunch of nuts.'" Larry said.

"E-Excuse me?" Larry handed the note over and Miles read it. Sure enough, that is what it said.

"The album's gotta name on the first page. 'August 2016 Memoirs.'" Larry turned to the next page and screamed, "AAAHHHH! DUUDE!"

"What!? Why are you shouting!"

"L-Look!" Larry shoved the album into Miles arms, "LOOK!"

The first page had 8 pictures in total, four on each page. There was a caption on each page's heading.

One the first page:

'First Day of Work'

The first picture was of Larry alone on floor 8, peering into the cubicles from a desk worker's point of view.

The second was of Larry getting scolded by Helena.

The third was Larry on floor 8 with Jules near the cubicles once more.

The fourth was of Larry and Miles together on floor 8.

On the second page:

'You Caused a Scene'

The fifth was of Miles smiling viciously.

The sixth was of Miles then swiping the keycard.

The seventh was when security escorted Larry away.

The eighth and final piece was of Miles entering White's office.

"Are we caught!? Are we done for!?" Larry frothed at the mouth as he panicked.

"No, I do not –"

"HOOOW CAAAN YOOUU BEEEE SOOOO SUUUUURE!?"

Miles glared at Larry, shutting him up. "The tone on this stickit note is too causal. The only thing threatening about it is that someone knows where we were today."

"OH!? Is THAT all?"

Miles went to the next page, "Ah."

'At Least You Clean Up Nicely'

The ninth picture was of Miles wiping his fingerprints off of White's door.

The tenth was the same thing, only on the locked door.

The eleventh was Miles cleaning the key.

The twelfth, the badge.

The second page was left blank.

"Who could have sent this?" Larry fretted on the couch.

Miles' brow furrowed, but he came to one conclusion. "Phoenix. It has to be."

"Why?" Larry asked, still feeling unnerved.

"This is very in line with his humor thus far if you compare it to the puzzle box." _So, Phoenix saw both of us today?_

"He must have been there all day, then." Larry said, "Those first few pictures of me were at the start of my day. Wait. If he was in Bluecorp all day, why didn't he try to talk to us?"

"I am not sure."

"How did he get our pictures? Bring a camera? There were no dudes with cameras."

"The security cameras . . . could not possibly have taken such close-up views and this many angles." _Pictures. Films._

Larry became more belligerent, "So, he took these with, what? His phone? That jerk! Oh! I can't wait 'til we can give him hell for this!"

_Film roll. What is nagging me about this so?_

Miles slipped one of the pictures from its sleeve to study the print and the back. "While there is no date and time stamp, this picture must be digital. Film processing would take longer."

Larry was thrown off by this comment, "Um. That. That was never a question, though?"

"Hold it, Larry. Listen. There was a film canister in the puzzle box, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. I guess? That's important, but not, like, really all that important?" Larry folded his arms.

"Well, which is it? Is it all that important?"

"I dunno. What do you think?"

_What do I think? Film processing takes a . . . oh! That's it!_

"Larry, I believe it is important."

"Kay. Why?"

"First, let us see if there are any other pages of photos. . . ." Miles flipped to the next, then instantly went enraged, "Oh! You have _got to be joking!_" Miles seethed.

"You're scary when your eyes bulge like that, you know?"

"When I get my hands on that man . . .!"

Larry started to sweat a little, feeling more frightened than Phoenix's mindreading message on a pully string, "Duude, what? Why are you so worked up?"

This time, Miles handed Larry the album and gritted his teeth while doing so.

The final page:

'You Made My Job Harder. But You Also Made It Easier . . . I Guess?'

Photo thirteen was a cleaning cloth draped on White's doorknob.

The fourteenth was a gloved hand with a cutoff arm in a blue suit, returning the stolen badge.

The fifteenth and final photo of the collection was a certain beanie on the bathroom sink.

There was an end caption that read 'You really need to not come around anymore. White's killed for less, y'know.'

_A blue suit and a beanie hat and __**I saw you.**_

While Miles still fumed, Larry hesitantly pushed, "Uh . . . why are these pictures upsetting you?"

"I saw a man in that suit with that hat today. He knows I saw him. No. No, that's inaccurate. He _made sure that _I saw him."

"I'm still very confused."

Miles hated to admit the following. Indeed, Phoenix managed to show his face and still hide it at the same time. "I came across a locked door. He conveniently left me the key I needed, wearing what's captured in these photos. I thought the beanie was out of place. He did it so I would not recognize him and oh am I going to strangle him for that!"

"So, he played you, huh?" Larry sniggered.

Miles legitimately growled at Larry. _What does this tell me, though? I know now significantly more than I just did. Even though this makes me so, so angry. _"There is a connection between Wright and Bluecorp, after all. That's not the only new information, though."

"Yo, I'm gonna grab some pizza before it gets too cold." Larry ran away and Miles exhaled.

Miles spoke loud enough for Larry to hear, "The photographs. I think I figured out what 'service' Wright and his roommate provide.

"Yeah!?" Larry called from the kitchen, retrieving a plate from Miles' cabinets.

"Photography."

"Photographs?" Larry returned with a slice sticking out of his mouth and a mountain of pizza on a plate.

". . . Yes. Film is developed in a darkroom. I believe that locked bathroom in Phoenix's apartment has been converted into one. Water is needed for the prints to process, ergo, would be a suitable environment."

"Oh, yeah, baby! So, that's not illegal at all!" Larry said with a mouth full of food.

"Unless. Could they be working for Bluecorp?" Miles worried about the connection again.

"Huh!?"

Miles twisted his face. "N-No. that couldn't possibly . . ." _No. if this were anyone else, I would not hesitate. _"Bluecorp makes most of its living on blackmail, extortion, and theft. Someone who develops film could also be the one who captured blackmail evidence in the first place."

"I guess."

"Wright was on Bluecorp grounds. Able to blend right in. He could very easily be 'reporting in' his photos."

"Oh." Larry's face dropped.

"Yeah." Miles felt his face droop similarly. "It would also explain how he was able to easily photograph us."

"But Nicky ain't asking us for money. Looks like he just doesn't want to see us or have us on Bluecorp grounds."

"A friendly request?" Miles closed his eyes, "Or a threat posing as such?"

"You serious!?"

Miles' mind and intuition fought an internal battle, "I – I do not know what to –" _Think it through, first. _"I need to analyze what I know again."

_There are a few pieces here. White and Bluecorp. Wright and his roommate. The blackmail. The victims._

These pieces connect as followed - Bluecorp - Victims - Blackmail - Extortion. If Miles followed one logic path, Wright and his roommate would be under the blackmailer process.

"Eat, will you?" Larry switched gears again, "It feels wrong to be pigging out alone."

"Oh." Miles stood up, "Yes."

Miles thought about it while working on autopilot. He found the vegetarian Mediterranean styled pizza and fixed himself a modest plate with a cup of water.

_If that was true, then White would not 'hire' Wright or his roommate under 'normal' conditions. That transaction would be made with under the table deals._

That would not absolve Wright in the least. It would make him an accomplice to many horrible crimes. Miles sat back down at the kitchen table. Larry decided to join him once he returned for a drink of his own.

"Oh!" Miles exclaimed, "What if . . .?"

"Hm?" Larry looked thoughtfully at Miles' outburst.

"What if Wright and his roommate aren't working for Bluecorp? What if they're working against it?"

"Um?"

"If I rearrange the logic, it isn't that Bluecorp hired Wright or his roommate. She was specifically afraid of White because she had photo evidence against Bluecorp, or White himself. The blackmailer is being blackmailed."

"'She'?"

"Not now." Well, that detail slipped out. "I know now that Wright definitely is connected to all of this somehow. But why can he move around Bluecorp freely? Does that mean he has a badge?"

_No. that contradicts the facts as I know them; it would also negate this new theory._

"Really, dude? Who is 'she'?" Larry asked, hyper focused on 'there was a woman in all of this'.

Miles ignored him, "Wright has no employment record, though. He could not be an employee of Bluecorp without some sort of hushed dealings."

Larry paused his quest to learn about the lady involved and answered, "Maybe he stole a badge? Like you did?"

"I suppose it is possible." _Unsatisfactory, but plausible._

"Well! That puts Nick in a better light, now, right?"

"Does it?" _ He refuses to see us. Moreover, he has put himself in considerable danger for no apparent reason if he's not working for White. _"Why was he at Bluecorp? Why is he involved in all of this?"

"I dunno."

"I need more information. This is all unclear, still." Miles sighed, thinking about ending his mental interrogation until the morning.

"So, where's Missile?" Larry asked.

"Ray is looking after him until I change living arrangements." Miles answered. "I am looking to upgrade to a place that allows dogs."

"Ah. Cool. Man. Missile's ancient now, isn't he?"

Miles shook his head, "He's only 15. Still a young dog."

"Hmm . . . if you insist." Larry shrugged. Well, assuming he still had a job, Miles intended on retrieving his longtime friend in a place with an open yard and fencing so he could roam as he pleased.

Larry and Miles watched a few movies before they went to bed. Larry stayed on the couch for the night and Miles quietly read over the release papers in his room, now that he had some brainpower again. There were three names listed under Bluecorp's agreement to withhold charges: Helena Christensen, Lennon Palmer, and Gervais Verrier. They all vouched on a single reason, Miles realized: insanity plea.

Miles could not help but find that slightly comical.

Notes:

I am forgoing the usual : Butz is a verbal punching bag for his slightly deranged charms. Same with Gumshoe if/when he is introduced. These two can be comic relief without being on the butt-end (lol) of the joke with no real win.


	7. Musical Chairs

Notes:

I honestly don't get how they name closed case files. I have tried to research it but to no avail. So I just slapped DL-6 over this case, since it will be taking over what the ingame version is.

Musical Chairs

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 8:00 AM

Miles stood facing the parking lot outside the firm, entirely still and rigid, awaiting his evaluation. His father had ordered 8:00 AM sharp but neglected to show up on time for it.

A million thoughts ran through his mind – what would he do if he lost this? What would his relationship with his father be? Where would he go after? The image of working for anyone else made Miles ill, but there was always the option of starting his own firm . . .

His stomach twisted at the thought. Miles did not want another firm – he wanted to continue practicing with his father. Miles could not bring himself to eat breakfast, nor did he sleep very well again. Everything was in a state of up upheaval.

Gregory's car came onto the lot and Miles never felt so horrible at the sight of his father's arrival. Gregory parked and exited immediately, giving Miles a perplexed look as he approached. "Why did you not let yourself in?" Gregory asked before giving a proper greeting. His tone was casual. Conversational.

"I," Miles stammered. Of course he had a key and of course he could have let himself in, but Miles lived by a high set of self-imposed standards. He concluded that since his rights and employment to the office were hinging on termination, that it would be against etiquette to let himself into an office that may soon be forfeited. Explaining all of that to his father, though, was surprisingly difficult and all he could manage was embarrassed stammering.

Gregory must have worked it out and unlocked the door himself, then said, "Come on in."

Miles followed him in, muscles still very stiff from anxiety. Gregory first went into the kitchen area, partitioned by walls but no actual door, to start a kettle for his morning tea, leaving Miles to sweat it out for a few more minutes. The waiting was too much for him, and his calves ached from the apparent stress he held in his appendages. Miles would not sit down until it was offered to him.

The office was more of an apartment in many ways. Gregory's main office had a kitchen, a bathroom, both Edgeworth's desks, and a television. The only thing missing was a bed, though technically there was a cot in the closet, folded up in case it was ever needed. Ray had his own office across the hall and a small office for members that Miles did not know so well. They shared a breakroom, but Raymond had a habit of storing his food in Gregory's area.

Gregory had a set of chairs situated between the couch and his own desk for client consultations. Thinking on it, Miles often sat in one of those chairs rather than at his own desk to assist in case files. Miles understood his role as underling would have made others feel inferior, but he enjoyed every part of his relationship to his father.

The kettle whistled and he heard Gregory attend to that with the clanking of glasses, the stovetop's click of being shut off, and the pouring of hot water. All normally pleasant sounds but today . . . it brought about a sense of terror. The evaluation would begin in only a few more minutes.

Gregory came in with a tray – two glasses of tea, sugar, and breakfast muffins. He sat the tray down on the edge of the desk and said, "Have a seat."

Miles obeyed but did not touch the glass offered to him. His hands shook and he could not trust himself to keep the tea from spilling. Gregory turned on his computer for the morning and began to shuffle through files, ignoring the fact that Miles was breathlessly anticipating his own verdict.

"Have you been sleeping well?" Gregory glanced up from a file, "Your eyes are very heavy. How's your health?"

"Um. . ." Miles shook his head. Best be honest, "N-No, Father. I did not sleep well last night."

"I see. You should go see a doctor if your restlessness keeps up." Gregory took a sip from his tea. He had his eyes on Miles, who still fidgeted under such a gaze.

"I will, Father." His cheeks started to burn. Gregory slid a file next to the breakfast tray.

"Read this over when you are up to it. Get some sleep first."

Miles looked at the folder quizzically, then to his father, "W-What of the evaluation?"

"There's nothing to evaluate." Gregory answered.

"I don't understand, Father."

"We discussed it plenty yesterday. I see no need to go through it again."

Miles looked at the file more closely. It was a case file with a designation, which meant that it was a closed case. 'DL-6'. Certainly, by Gregory giving Miles some homework and the meaning behind his words meant that he had pardoned Miles' behavior these past few days. But he had to make sure. "Then I – you would still . . . have me here?"

Gregory sighed, "Seeing you waiting miserably outside my office was enough to know you mean to correct what we went over. There's . . . really nothing more to say here."

Neither of the Edgeworths were good with emotions or expressions of such. Miles exhaled, letting go of all that inner turmoil with that breath. "Thank you, Father."

"Do you know what happened to Larry?" Gregory asked, still concerned about the last person involved in yesterday's incidents – well, as far as Gregory's knowledge of it was concerned. Miles still needed to tell him about Phoenix. . .

"He is snoring on my couch." Miles smiled, "I caught up with him last night and we talked it over."

"I see. Very good. Go get some rest, Miles."

Miles, accepting his father's judgement, took the file, peeking just to see what it was he had to study. Gregory stopped him and warned, "Eat first, then rest. Review that later."

"Yes, Father." Miles stood up and cracked the file just a smidge, causing Gregory to sigh and stand up. Miles watched him curiously and his father readied his keys.

"I see you won't rest until this is over. I will take you home so you can rest and not crash your car from exhaustion."

"'Until this is over'?" Miles asked, then opened the file, reading the first page of several.

**Case Overview:**

Date : Thursday October 30th 2003

Defense Attorney : Robert Hammond

Prosecutor : Jody O'Gallagher

Defendant : Dennis Wright

Charges : Murder; Failure To Report a Death; Child Negligence and Emotional Abuse

Victim(s) : Phoenix (Faine) Wright (wife) ; Phoenix Wright (son)

Lead Detective : Albertyne Huntsmann

Witness : Gregory Edgeworth

Verdict : Not Guilty ; Guilty : Insanity Plea

Sentencing : Rehabilitation / Admittance to Psychiatric Hospital; Child Removed From Care

"Th-this is the case overview for Phoenix – Phoenix's mother?" Miles fixated on the victims line. Gregory nodded solemnly.

"Faine. That is what she called herself. Dennis Wright was not found guilty of murdering his wife. But there was more than enough evidence of child abuse. The fact remained that he hid his wife's passing for what we guess was a month."

"You guessed?"

"Turn the page."

**Victim(s) Report:**

Full Name: Phoenix (Faine) Wright

Maiden Name : Will'O

Age : 30

Discovery of Body: Monday October 27th 2003

Date of Death : Unknown. Approximated between Saturday September 20th through Tuesday September 30thth

Cause of Death : Unknown.

Autopsy : In the state of decomposition once found.

Possible signs of suffocation.

No traces of lethal poisons.

Full Name : Phoenix Wright

Age : 11

Status : Withdrawn. Signs of verbal and emotional abuse.

"This case does not make sense. At all." Miles concluded.

"The prosecutor and the lead detective at the time agreed. I consulted with them to find the truth . . . but the autopsy yielded nothing conclusive."

"Do you think the autopsy would have been more definite had the body been found in an appropriate amount of time?" Miles asked. He remembered Faine (well, Mrs. Wright) fairly well. He hate to think of her in such a poor state.

"Possibly." Gregory nodded. "Probably a more accurate report on suffocation. Either she failed to breathe as she slept, or someone held something against her face."

"Why does the report mention lethal poison?"

"A speculation on our part. Nothing ever came of it." Gregory answered, "It took them that morning to dismiss the murder charges. And so that afternoon we shifted it into negligence."

"Why would Dennis not move the body? Clearly, he had ample time to do so."

" . . . That's where the insanity plea came in. He insisted that his wife's death mentally broke both he and Phoenix." Gregory explained.

"And? What is your take on that?" Miles wondered.

"I did not believe it. Not for a second. I could see the mental toll it took on Phoenix, but not Dennis. But we had no proof against the contrary."

**Perpetrating Suspect:**

Full Name : Dennis Wright

Age : 36

Charges : Murder. Child Negligence and Abuse. Failure to Report a Death / Possible Crime of Murder.

Sentencing : Rehabilitation / Admittance to Psychiatric Hospital; Child Removed From Care

"Rehabilitation?" Miles read that word aloud, disgusted and shocked by it. "That means he could be walking the streets right now!"

"He isn't. But you're correct. If Dennis Wright appeals for a reevaluation of progress, he could leave the institution in which he was placed. He had to wait a ten-year grace period before he could begin this process, due to the severity of the situation he was institutionalized for."

"But he's a murderer!" Miles exclaimed, though he realized it was wrong for him to say that.

"According to that trial, no he is not. He is a man with a mental disorder. Under the right circumstances, he could be repeal that sentencing."

". . . Unbelievable." Miles flipped to the last page, though it was handwritten by Gregory.

Assorted Medicine:

Prescribed Tablets (purchased monthly 9/12/03)

Over the counter cough syrup.

Phoenix mentioned something about the bottles of cough syrup, though I could not get much more out of him. He said that [paraphrasing], "There were three at one point." Nothing in evidence proved that, though. He also claimed to "have given his mother her nightly medicine with dinner".

Medicaid bottle bought with prescribed tablets on the same day. A receipt for the same cough syrup bought 5 days later on 9/19 with dollars.

The defense cleared up what Phoenix was confused about with an empty bottle found in the trash. . . though I wonder if that detail stuck out to him if there was something more to it?

The medicine was never tampered with. Several tests were done (both mother and son) and neither had traces of any poison.

I testified to what I discovered. Nothing much comes from it.

Unable to prove the murder, we change the charges during our recess. . . I testify for them once more about the abuse. We are able to convince the judge, but it seems like Hammond anticipated it. He bargained for insanity . . .

"These are your notes." Miles stated.

"If you want an official evidence listing, you will have to appeal to the police department and go through those channels. I doubt they will give those to you, as 'solved cases' such as these are permanently locked away two years passed their end date. I wrote down what stood out."

Puzzling. But it seemed that anything related to Phoenix was nonsensical and convoluted.

"I do have a question," Miles asked, looking at Faine's maiden name. "I would have guessed that Faine's maiden name was 'Belle', not . . . not Will'O . . .? Why does Annie have the last name 'Belle'?"

"You will have to forgive me, I never explained that well. Faine and Annie met when they were young. Faine was a childhood friend of the Wright family, as I recall. Annie was a 'Wright' not a 'Will'O'. Annie is Phoenix's paternal aunt, who changed her name to 'be more French'. I don't think she wanted a terribly complicated name."

"Oh."

"It's okay. That family can be confusing, veering on eccentric."

_Par for the course_, Miles thought, _I still can't believe Phoenix thinks bogey is a soccer term . . . I cannot wait to give him grief for that._

"From what Faine told me, she loved her in-laws – mother, father, and sister – equally. I wondered if that's why she married Dennis at all. Ties to the Wright family."

"Was Faine and Dennis' relationship strained?"

"Non-existent. Faine was at most of the family events at your school. Dennis never showed up to any. She never spoke about him, either. Strangely, Phoenix was the same way, if you recall. Never really had a good or bad thing to say about him."

"I suppose that is strange. Wait. So, Annie is . . . Dennis' sister, then. Here I thought she was Faine's."

Gregory nodded, "Annie and Faine were close like sisters. I don't think unshared blood stopped that."

_Hence why she took Phoenix in. _Miles realized they had been discussing this while standing up. His father had intended to go over it while driving him home, but there appeared to be nothing left to discuss. The details in Gregory's own notes were odd.

Miles' tired mind and body could not factor in the full reasons why he found this report so strange. His father's suggestion on sleep would soon be heeded. "Are you still taking me home?" Miles finally relented to his needs.

"I can." A voice from the hall called.

"Hello Raymond." Miles greeted.

He raised an eyebrow, "Why so formal? It's just me, y'know?"

Miles couldn't pinpoint why, but he always tensed up around Raymond. He owed him gratitude for watching Missile while he was transitioning out from his apartment into something better. Even after that act of kindness, Miles still felt uneasy around him.

"Yes. Of course. Good morning, Ray."

"You're still stiff!" He laughed. "I got to go to the prosecutor's offices after I take you home. Or! Hey, I got an idea!"

"Prosecutor's offices?" Miles asked. _I hate it when Ray expresses his 'ideas'. _

"Eh. I just had a request for them. That's all. Anyway, how about I take you back to my place for a bit? Poor old Missile just misses you so much!"

"You want to take me back to your house?" Miles felt unnerved by that statement. _My car at the office. Larry's towed away. Larry at my apartment. Me staying at Ray's. This day has become a fun little game of musical chairs . . ._

"I, uh, will have to decline. Larry is still at my apartment and he towed his car back to his father's workshop. I should probably just drive myself back to assist Larry when he finally wakes up. . ."

"Ah. Yeah. That's true. Or," Ray shrugged, "I can pick him up, too."

_And the displacement continues. _"I . . . see no reason to object . . . I do want to see Missile."

"Great!" Ray beckoned him to the door, "I got plenty of beds you can snuggle up to Missile with!" Raymond handed Miles his keys and requested, "Go ahead and start her up. I just gotta grab one thing."

"O-Okay then." Miles left, still feeling unsettled.

"You can have a seat boss. I'll get what I need in a few hours." He waited for the door to completely close before saying, "Then we can have a go at those reports. I see you've made up with him?"

"Yes." Gregory found the tea glass from Miles and sighed, "He did not even touch his tea."

"He's a nervous wreck after what you said to him last night. Told you he'd respect your judgement. Glad it's all working out, in the end."

"I gave him the DL-6 case overview." Gregory sat down and turned on the news. He muted it so he and Ray could continue their short discussion.

"Hm. Alright. Should I tell him about Dennis?"

"Not just yet. One thing at a time."

Ray nodded, "Got it. You want a chance to read Phoenix's history. Makes sense." Ray left after that and took the squirming boy back to his apartment to wrangle Larry.

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 8:30 AM

"You know, anyone who wears a red suit should automatically be considered suspicious. Don't you think?" Phoenix asked the front desk worker, while wearing a cheap suit in a deviously bright shade of red. "Do I look suspicious? I feel suspicious."

"Then go home and change." She answered flatly, ignoring the irony that Phoenix presented. _Boo. None of you are any fun here._

"Nah, I'll be late otherwise. Take care!" He lifted his hand from the desk and put on his glasses; the shade of blue clashed harshly with the tomato coloration, but he didn't care. He checked his phone and pulled up an app.

He saw a perfect view of the front lobby entrance through the bug he placed on her desk. He had mentally assigned this case as : _Emergency Code Red_.

_No suspiciously red suits shall get by me today! _Phoenix thought triumphantly while laughing internally. The fact that Miles of all people fell for his staged bluff just completely pleased him. _Cannot wait to tease him for that._

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 8:34 AM

"Duuuude! This is horrible!" Larry screamed at Miles while Raymond casually waited in the living room. He smiled at Larry, who had all the wonderful makings of great comedic relief.

"What is so life altering?" Ray asked, stirring the pot. Miles flashed a very angry glare at Ray, who shrugged it off.

"I-I-I HAVE A DATE TODAY! And no car! What am I goooiiiinnnng tooooo doooooooo!"

"Ask your dad for another one? He has at least five." Miles suggested.

"But . . . what if they stop working, too? They're all fixer uppers, Edgey! Oooohhhh what am I going to do?" Larry trembled as if his world was about to end. 'Life altering' indeed. "HHHEEEEY! I KNOW! Since Ray's giving you a ride today, that means your car is –"

"No! Absolutely not!" Miles folded his arms. Larry would never harm his car. His beautiful, new sportscar. His wonderfully fast on the highway sportscar. His less than 100 miles on the odometer sportscar.

"Help a brotha out, Edgey!" Larry pleaded.

"Don't you owe your friend for imprisoning him?" Ray said, definitely stirring the pot.

Miles scoffed, "Excuse me? His own actions landed him in jail. Is that not what you attested to yesterday, Larry?" At this point, Larry had already ridden on the sail that Raymond provided.

"RIGHT! RIGHT! Good call, there – uh . . ."

"Ray." He bowed. _You backstabbing little_ –

"YES!" Larry clapped, thinking he already won. "Thank you, Ray! You owe me, Edgey!"

_Why am I being punished in this way? _"I can loan you money for a taxi. That's all I am offering."

"But . . . But . . . But!" Larry couldn't think of a rebuttal. Unfortunately for Miles, Defense Attorney Raymond Shields could.

"At the end of the day, your insurance will cover any and all damages. And you do owe your friend for that stunt from the other day. Come on, it's not that unreasonable of a request."

"Yes. it is." Miles still refused.

"So, you choose your car over your friend's happiness? So cruel." Ray said with a snide smile.

". . . My car will last fifteen years with proper care. Jules might last fifteen days." Miles retorted.

"HEY!" Larry screamed, "She's the one, I am TELLING you! MY SOUL MATE!" Miles rolled his eyes at that claim.

"And how many times have I heard that one?"

"Hey, man. It's cool. I see how you are. You get to keep your job while I lost mine."

"That was your fault." Miles argued.

Larry ignored him, "And now you are bein' super stingy with your car."

"You crashed your last _several_ cars!" Miles pointed out. "I'd rather not have you crash mine. I bought it two weeks ago, Larry! TWO!"

"Hey, that asswipe swerved into me! That was not my fault!" Larry countered.

"And all those other times!?"

"I have NEVER, once been AT FAULT!" _The curse of Larry. Wherever he goes, destruction awaits._

"I will give you a thousand dollars to put toward a car you can call your own. You aren't touching mine, though."

Larry thought about it for a moment, before Ray interjected once more, "I hate to but in."

_Liar. You are such a liar! _

"But, as I recall, don't you need a constant income in order to get a loan? Isn't Larry's employment record a little sketchy? Larry'd have to buy a car that's worth exactly $1000 for that to work. You'd have to cosign anything higher than that."

"Your father can cosign with you." Miles pinched his arm. This conversation was not happening.

"Nuhuh. He said he wouldn't again." Larry frowned. _Because you crashed your last several!_

"I think your choices are clear, Miles." Raymond smirked, "Since you offered, you can't rescind it. You would have to give Larry $1000 and cosign. Or you could just let him borrow your car."

"N-No! You! You are a vile person!"

Raymond pouted, "I thought I was being nice, taking care of your pup and all that."

"Ngh. . ." _Cosigning for Larry would be a death sentence to my credit score. _"If there's so much as a scratch, Larry, you'll wish you never left the detention center."

"OOOH YEAH!" Larry shot up from the couch and celebrated indecently. Miles groaned, already regretting this.

"Do. Not. Damage. My. Car. Do you understand?"

"Loud and clear, boss!" Larry pictured himself driving super-fast down the highway. How could Miles tell? Larry was pretending to drive, going 'Errrrrmmmmmmm' while fake steering.

"Ugh! I change my mind. I can't do this!"

"TOO LATE!" Larry pointed at Miles, "No take-backsies!"

Raymond said, "You can't just let a man's hopes up then crush them like that. Besides, I think it's fair trade."

_Of course you do! You thought of this evil plan in the first place! _"You still owe us money." Miles thought quickly, "You have seen your bill, right? I can null that pay. You would not have to worry about a thing. Ready to renegotiate?"

"Nah. I wanna be a racerrrrrrrr – I mean, respectfully drive your car. That's totally what I was sayin'."

"I know why you did not go for that option first," Ray laughed, exposing Miles for a fact that he knew, but would work around. "Since Mr. Gregory Edgeworth is the one who handles those contracts, you have no power to alter them anyway. You must be desperate." Ray snickered, enjoying his own chaos.

_Now I know why I hate you._

"Your keys, please!" Larry held out his palm like a giddy child waiting for Halloween candy. Miles groaned again and located the spare set hanging in his kitchen. Miles had a death grip on the spare, even as he handed it over. Larry tugged on it a few times, and Miles fingers would not unclench the fob.

"Uhh. Dude? You kinda need to let go?" Larry said as he yanked.

"Oh. Right. Right."

"You still haven't let go."

"Right. Right."

"I think he's broken," Ray leaned in.

Larry finally pulled the fob free from Miles, who then lowered his arm and said, "I . . . I suppose we should go."

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 9:23 AM

"Are you crying?" Ray asked Miles, who was watching Larry enter the driver's side of his beautiful red sportscar.

"The wind is cutting my eyes." Miles answered. There was no wind that morning.

"Sure it is." Raymond laughed. Larry sat too long for Miles' comfort. Then a thought occurred to him.

Miles started walking toward the car and thought, _Do not tell me . . . he does not know how . . . _Miles unlocked the car with the main set and entered the passenger side.

"Larry. Do you have something to confess to me?" Miles asked, sitting with one leg crossed over the other and resting his hands on the extended knee.

"Uh. . . what are all those . . . pedals . . .? More than two? Why?"

Miles sighed. "This is a manual transmission. You do know how to drive one, right?"

"Uh. . ."

"Your own father is a mechanic, Larry! How do you not know!?" Miles felt a pressure headache. _There is no way in hell I am letting Larry drive if he does not know how to handle manual!_

"Not everyone follows their father's footsteps, Edgey!"

"This has _nothing _to do with that! You can't tell me you father never tried to teach you how to drive manual! Not once!?"

"Oh. Well. You mean stick-shift, right?"

"Manual. It is the same thing, I suppose. . ." Miles rolled his eyes. He was doing that a lot today.

Larry chuckled, "Well, you see . . . about that . . . I . . . totaled it. That one was my bad."

"OUT! Get out of my car!" Miles yelled. "For Christ's sake, I will drive you to your date!"

"That's a little weird. Yeah. No. Too weird. I know. You can teach me how really quick."

Miles was at his limit. Any more inane comments and he was going to explode. He managed to hit a point where he doubled back into an eerie calm. "Larry. Manual is not something I can teach in one morning's session. Maybe I can teach you on something that's, well, not this car over a few weeks." _Weeks? More like months. . ._

"Well, just tell me what to do. I might remember somethin'. I mean, I have driven before."

"You said you totaled it. I remember. That was not even a minute ago." Miles started feeling his wrath surface. "I would rather not let you have the chance to wreck this one."

"Well, WHY'D you have to GO AND BUY a stick-shift!?" Larry was actually upset about Miles' economic choices? Really?

"It gives you better control."

"Well, not if it can't be driven." Larry mocked.

"You idiot, manual cars were here long before automatic! This clearly is not going to work out. We can discuss other options, but you simply lack the experience to control this car. That is a fact."

"So, you gonna cosign for me after all?" There it was. The boiling point.

"Larry. You have exactly until I count to ten to drop the spare key and remove yourself from my car . . . before I strangle you with a seatbelt. Okay? One . . . two . . ."

"Yeah, no way, dude! I earned this!"

"Three . . . four . . ."

"Count all you want! I ain't scurred."

"Five . . . six . . . seven . . ."

"Wait! WAIT! One test drive to see if I can drive it! Will you at least allow me that?"

Miles considered it. "Define your terms."

"Hmm? W-Well. I think I should go ask Ray for guida –"

". . . Nine."

"You skipped eight . . ."

"That comment was worth double. State your terms on your own, or leave." Miles was fed up.

"O-Okay. If I can prove to you that I'm capable of driving stick, will you let me take it off the lot for my date?"

". . . One thing at a time. You have to know how to shift in and out of gears without flooding the engine. I have a hard time imagining you with enough finesse for that." _I really should have thought about that when it came up. I just thought that Mr. Butz would have taught Larry this already . . ._

"I'm full of finesse!"

"Hmph. We shall see, won't we? I do not agree to your terms but I will allow you to try and start the car." _It must be an especially cold day in hell for this to be happening._

"I'll get you to trust me, no worries!"

_I doubt that._

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 10:06 AM

Among the bug planted in the lobby, Phoenix had other ways to keep an eye on Miles. When he dropped the box with his photo album, he also placed a GPS tracker on Miles' car. As he watched it, confusion overtook him. It kept inching forward, ever so slightly. Phoenix flicked the phone screen, wondering if it was damaged?

_Guess the app is freaking out. I'll just do a quick reboot . . ._

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 10:06 AM

"STOP FLOODING THE ENGINE!" Miles yelled as the car lurched again, causing him to fall forward as well. The car made a horrendous sound and Miles empathized with his beauty.

"I'm sorry! This is just so hard!" Larry cried. Legitimately, tears flowed down his face.

"This isn't working, Larry!" Miles fixed his hair. Loose ends stuck up and he was not about to step out looking disheveled. "I will figure out another solution, but this is not it."

"Less than two hours! My life is over!"

"Just call her and tell her what happened! If Jules really is your soulmate, I think she'd understand a missed date! Call ahead of time!" They were in this car for far too long. Miles looked out the window. Ray was watching the entire affair. With popcorn.

_I hate that man._

"But I can't go a DAY without SEEING HER! My soul will rip in two!"

"Then I'll drive you there! Like I offered before!"

"NO WAY MAN!"

"URGH!" _Why, oh why am I friends with this man!? _"Okay. Okay. There has to be a compromise somewhere. I am not comfortable with you driving a car you can't even get two feet forward. Even if you do, you will likely stall and kill it. This is **not **the car for you."

"Y-Yeah . . ." Larry frowned, beginning to see that.

"How far away is your date?" Miles asked. "I can drop you off and pick you up. I can give you taxi fare. Hell, I can rent you a car at this point I am so fed up with this situation. Pick one of those options."

"Rent a car?" _Of course. That would be the one he chooses._

"Fine. Let's go. Switch places with me."

"Uh. Okay."

As they switched, Raymond audibly chortled and caused Miles to hate that man even more, if that were possible.

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 10:51 AM

"Hey, Miles! Look! It's your car in normal style!" Larry said, looking at one of the rentals. It was even the same red, incidentally.

". . . I don't think they want you wrecking that one, either." Was all Miles had to say to that. Clearly, the manual that was his car was the superior model, but an imbecile like Larry would never understand that.

"Oh, Please Edgey! PLEASE! PLEASE! PUUUHHH-LEEEAASSEEEE! I JUST WAANNA GLLIIIIDE!"

"Stop shouting at me! Fine! But if you wreck this car and raise my insurance rate, I will apply that percentage to your debt!"

"SWEET! You are the BEST!"

_And you are a pain!_

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 10:51 AM

Of all the wonders in the world, what Miles and Larry were up to had Phoenix lounged back in his seat, resigned to endless mystification, and staring at the app, even more astounded than he was before.

_A car rental shop . . . huh . . .?_ Of course, there was no way Phoenix could know that Larry was involved; but somewhere in his gut, he just knew . . .

_Oof. Sorry Miles. _Was all he could think as he left his desk to stretch his legs. He passed Julia on the way and she offered a muffled greeting. She paused, then said, "I . . . I know that you talked Palmer into going easy on Larry. So . . . thank you."

_Well, it was more of a nag than anything else. _"Yes. You are welcome. Do you still plan on seeing him, even though he's been terminated?"

"I do not believe that is any of your business. Good day."

_She's still mad at me. Oh, boy. Just wait 'til Larry figures out it was me who made her cry . . ._


	8. Chaotic Alignment

Chaotic Alignment

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 11:47 AM

Miles drove home, really just wanting to sleep. So much for seeing his dog today . . . A thought then occurred to him too late by his standards and he called Larry, hoping he would pick up.

"Dude, I am busy. What?"

"Don't take that tone _with me_." Miles said tersely, "I just wanted to ask that you not bring up Phoenix to Jules. Whatever game he's playing he's at risk. As much as I want to know what he's doing, I don't want to endanger him, you, or Julia."

"Ohh. Well, I was gonna ask her but if you think that's a bad idea. . ." Larry trailed off.

Miles sighed. He wanted to know, too, of course. But things had gotten relatively dicey and so he requested, "Just leave it be until we know more."

"Got it."

After the call ended, Miles exited his car and made his way to his apartment. He heard a car pull in near him and looked over his shoulder to see Raymond's car. _Oh great. What does he want now?_

Ray stepped out and waved at Miles, who sharply stared in his general direction. Ray ignored his icy glare and went around to the passenger side. Out trotted his golden dog, led by a leash. Once Missile spotted Miles, the boy ecstatically went wild, jumping and pawing to get closer.

Miles dropped his guard and went over to the happy friend. Ray cheerfully said, "Well, after this morning I figured you deserved a little happiness." Miles lowered down to Missile's level and allowed the dog to enter his personal space. A rare and true smile appeared on his face as he buried his face into the dog's fur. Ray gushed, "Awww. You do have a soft side, don't you?"

Miles stood up and Raymond offered the leash. Miles refused, though not for lack of wanting. "I can't take him inside. It's against my lease . . ."

"Yeah. There's a dog park nearby. Alternatively, I could take you back to my place still. Let you get some rest." Raymond seemed to drop his demonic act for the moment and Miles considered his options. While he did feel uncomfortable at other people's places, he would not have to worry about Missile. And the last few days warranted some dog time.

Miles started his degree early; both taking A.P. level classes in high school that counted toward college credits, and working as an aid to his father in his teenage years. After he passed the bar and tried more cases, Miles went on to even higher levels of law education.

Around four months ago, Gregory had Miles test the bounds of living on his own while working on his dissertations. Missile was too much for Gregory to handle after the first month, though, so Ray very graciously took the dog under his care during this 'trial period' of a six-month lease.

Miles managed finances easily enough and learned he had income to spare with extensive budgeting. The papers ate up a lot of his time. Luckily, Miles stayed ahead – his recent divergence in looking into Phoenix made him neglect his studies, though, he began to realize.

_After I rest._

"Okay." Miles agreed. "Let me retrieve a few belongings, then I will go back with you . . ." Ray nodded. Miles went inside to grab his books, the album, and the puzzle box, placing them in a large briefcase. He would have to own up to his father about those second and third objects in his possession.

Then he climbed into the backseat with Missile. The dog lounged across his lap during the trip, wagging his tail contentedly as Miles scratched his ears. Yes, it would be time to find a place for him and his dog soon.

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 1:13 PM

Larry and Jules walked back from their date and made their farewells. They really did have some good chemistry, and it made Larry want to find a decent job so he could keep this outing tradition doable.

He went back to his rental, which was parked in Bluecorp's back lot from just before noon to the current time. He felt around in his pocket for the key – but could not find it. Panicked, he hit every pocket in his jeans and his jacket, feeling for a fob shaped indention.

"No!" Larry emoted. _Miles is gonna so kill me if I lost those keys!_

Larry tugged on the door to see if it was unlocked. Fortunately, it was, and he patted down the seats and pushed the cushions around to see if it fell out. Keys were no longer required to be inserted in for newer models, a revolutionary concept; but for people like Larry, it made leaving the keys behind more probable. "Son of a bitch!" Larry cursed. Why did this kind of thing always happen to him?

Larry searched under the steering well next but heard the passenger door open as his face was under the seat. Larry normally did not have a sense for dangerous situations, but the whole 'White's killed for less' thing really stuck with him. Being on Bluecorp grounds only amplified it and he jumped back out of the car in response.

"Who's more red? Me or the car?" The intruder asked as he slammed the door and dropped his briefcase between his legs. It took Larry a few blinks to register anything beyond a bright red assaulting his visual receptors, but as soon as he saw that face in combination with that hair, he began to stutter. "Hush. Get in the car." Phoenix said, raising the fob, "This is what you're looking for, right? You left it in the car when you went to meetup with Julia."

"NII-NII"

"Shh! Just get in the damn car already! Geez." Phoenix rolled his eyes, "It's like you can't play cool."

"The HELL man!" Larry jumped in the car and closed his door, face as red as Phoenix's clothes. Phoenix just laughed at him, then pressed the red 'Power On' button.

"These cars are so fascinating. Is this a Miles knockoff? I was really confused when I saw it out the window. Like, you don't really understand why it's so confusing, but just know that it is." Phoenix looked at all the buttons. "What's this one do?" He pressed a blue circle.

"Emergency Services. Help is on the way –"

"Duuude!" Larry quickly shut it off, adding fuel to Phoenix's roaring laughter. "Stop pressing buttons!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Okay!" He pulled out his phone and hooked it up to the sound system, "Follow where the voice tells you to. We can talk on the way."

"And why should I? You've been AWOL for months and you think you can just drop in and tell me what to do? Don't think so!"

"Stubborn. How about for all the money in my left pocket?" Phoenix enticed in a way that suggested he wasn't joking.

"Oh, so now you think I'm gonna fall for a cheap bribe." Larry folded his arms, though he did need money. " . . . How much we talkin' here?"

Phoenix dug out a fifty-dollar bill, "Coincidence, I swear."

"Fine." Larry swiped the bill out from Phoenix's hand, despite doubting that it was 'just a coincidence' that he had bribe and/or hush money at the ready. "One ride! That's it!"

"Okay. Agreed." Phoenix started absentmindedly rooting through the glove compartment and middle console. Larry followed the GPS like Phoenix wanted but became increasingly agitated with this unexpected passenger.

"What are you doing? This is a rental, dude. There isn't much here."

"I'm just snooping. What? Don't like it when I come on your turf and strut through your stuff? Then don't do it to me!"

"I had nothin' to do with that! That was all Edgey!"

"K. Sure." Phoenix pulled out the manual and started to read it. "Wanna see what all this car can actually do?"

"Please don't break anything. I've been tryna keep this car in workin' order." Larry feared for his life after the morning he went through with Miles.

"Relax. Bluetooth. Radio. All things music. Satellite. Satellite? Oh crap, did you know it's got 4G capabilities?"

"Does it really? Huh."

"Yeah. You can use this," Phoenix tapped on the screen, "To watch movies and stream shows. Call me old fashioned, but I don't think that's all that safe." The screen flashed to the home page as a response to the tap with more widgets and Phoenix side-eyed it. He kept his hands to himself, though.

"UUhhh. Speaking of safe . . ." Larry remembered all the crashes in the last year alone, "You sure you want me to drive you?"

"Eh. My good luck and your bad luck should even out. Who knows, might even be uneventful."

"O-Okay." Larry nodded along, though questioned how much 'good' luck Phoenix had. "What are you doin' anyway? Why're you talkin' to me now?"

"You and Miles keep showing up in places I don't need you to." Phoenix said, still skimming through the manual, "And I figure that means we're going to run into each other eventually. Might as well come out of hiding now."

"Oh. Okay. Are you doin' like, illegal stuff?"

"Illegal? Where'd you get an idea like that?" Phoenix asked flatly.

"Uhh." Larry could feel this conversation become prickly. Or maybe it was just his imagination. "Erm. Miles can explain it better."

"So it's Miles who thinks I'm a no-good, lousy, evil criminal, then?"

Larry yelled and flailed his arms, "No! No! No one said that!"

"Both hands on the wheel." Phoenix reminded, though not because he was frightened. If anything, he was enjoying this all with a smile poorly hidden on his face. "I'm just messing with you. I'm not doing anything illegal."

"Then what's with all the weird stuff?"

"What weird stuff we talking about?"

"Y'know, the apartment and the job at Bluecorp and the roommate – hold on, the roommate!"

"She's not my type. Just a partner."

"Aww! How'd you know that's what I was gonna ask?"

Phoenix flipped the page and retorted, "I'm a mind reader."

Larry laughed at that then gasped inwardly, _Holy shit, he just might be_. Larry's mirth stilted and he questioned, "Dude, are you? How'd you know that I'd find the string in that puzzle box?"

"Oh . . . that . . . well . . . I saw the future." Phoenix's mouth curved upward. He wasn't stopping there, though. "Writing that note attached to a string for you was determined by a premonition of me writing the note to you."

"Oh, c'mon. That's BS and you know it."

"No, no. it's completely true. Though, it's a paradox, really. I would have never thought about writing it if I didn't see it happen. But if I didn't see it happen, I would not have written the note, thus destroying that entire string of events. To preserve this universe, I had to write that note, so you could find it, so I could answer you, and so we could arrive at this moment in time unscathed."

"That's . . .a load of . . ." Larry contemplated it. "DDUUUUDE! Are you serious!?"

Phoenix snorted, "No! Ahahaha! I just knew you'd read the instructions if you ever got your hands on the box! Miles thinks he 'too smart' for instructions."

"Wait! He's always readin' though!" Larry found that explanation even worse than the first. At least the first was believable.

Phoenix shook his head, "He reads about all manner of things, but when it comes to puzzles, he refuses to give into the instructions. He stopped at the first compartment thinking it was done, but did not realize that the small sheet I provided showed a second process and a note-on-a-string. You read it because you were curious and like to fiddle, but don't want to engage your brain in solving it. In short, the instructions were for you, not Miles, and figuring out the full puzzle involved both of you."

Larry's mouth hung open and Phoenix acted like he had been – calm, curious, and really wanting to press buttons. The small screen dimmed but he remembered the widgets. He wanted to press the widgets and see what they did.

In fact, Phoenix did while Larry was distracted by a turning light. He changed the car's time over to show military time. Larry then had to stop at the traffic light. Larry said as they waited, "You know who'd really like to hear that?"

"Who, Miles?" Phoenix did not miss a beat.

"Yeah. Maybe I should take you to him. Y'know. Like, right now."

"Hey, I paid fare. You can't go behind a contractual agreement."

"Did we sign anything?" Oh yeah, all that time listening to Miles paid off for once.

Phoenix chuckled, "Well, no, but you're a man of honor, right? You wouldn't go back on your word, would you? I did give you money, after all."

"Haha, SUCKER! I am NOT a man of honor!"

"I shoulda seen that one coming," Phoenix nodded along. _Wait, did he see it comin'? Nah, couldn't've. _

Phoenix then pressed a button, rolling the window down, and held out the fob. "So, these cars have a fun little thing where if the fob is outside the car, the car will no longer move."

_Oh, shit. _"Y-You wouldn't."

"I would."

Larry used the master controls to roll up the window. The master controls negated Phoenix's attempt at stalling it, and then Larry child locked it once the window was completely sealed. "How do you like that!" Larry screamed in victory as the light turned green and he started to drive.

"Oh, darn. If only there was another way out. Like. Say. . . This?" Phoenix opened the door and Larry started to freak out. A car behind them honked at Phoenix's absurd display, almost drowning out what Larry screamed, but not quite.

"DUDE! DUUUDE! Close that door! What are you doin'!?"

"I hold all the cards, Larry! I had an exit plan in case you decided to kidnap me." Phoenix smiled triumphantly this time, then slammed the door shut. "You deviate from the GPS, I throw the fob out, disabling this car, and I run for it. Trust me, I can outrun you. Who in their right mind designed these cars to be so fickle? Oh well, sucks for you."

". . . Christ, dude. You're insane!"

"Not the first time I've been called that," Phoenix balled his hand around the fob.

Larry felt his heart beating intensely. Miles threatened to kill him all morning but Phoenix probably would kill them, if left to his own devices. Phoenix hummed to himself and tapped on the screen. He found the climate controls and opened up the sky view via the manual's directions. "Oh, that's not very much. Next time, you should rent a full convertible."

"Did you just say rent? How'd you know that?" Larry asked with a creeping distrust in his voice.

"You have rental tags in the back, dumbass." Phoenix pointed with his thumb and a closed fist. Not only were they displayed on the back window, they were also on the plate. "What? It's not like I bugged Miles' car and have been spying on his movements all day."

"Don't call me a dumbass, dumbass."

"No, you." Phoenix stuck out his tongue. Larry laughed, genuinely. Unlike Miles, Phoenix didn't care about appearing silly or playing along. It was a relief, to be honest.

"Earlier you called this a 'Miles knockoff'. Was it because of those tags?" Larry asked.

"Yeah. I haven't seen the inside of his car, though. I mean, I only got close enough to plant a bug, that's all."

"Yeah, I can see that – WAIT! You DID plant a bug!?"

"Nothing gets past you." Phoenix smirked, then turned on the radio and channeled through stations. "Boring. Boring. Boring."

"Nah, you gotta go to this station." Larry slapped Phoenix's hand out of the way and found his normal bounce music. Unfortunately for them, it was 'love theme' hour.

"Uhhh."

". . .Weird?" Phoenix asked.

"Weird."

"Definitely weird." Phoenix resigned to turn it off completely at that point. After a moment of silence, they both just laughed unabashedly at the situation.

"So, why haven't you talked to us?" Larry asked once he caught his breath, "It's not like Miles hasn't been beside himself tryna figure you out."

Phoenix shrugged, losing his humored demeanor, "There's a lot to that. I've been thinking about how I want to approach this."

The GPS said, "You have arrived at your destination" at a place that Larry recognized.

"Why are we at the courthouse?"

Phoenix retrieved his phone. "Tomorrow. 8 AM. If you and Miles want to hear everything, meet me here then. And give him this." Phoenix handed another note folded in half along with the fob, then opened his door to step out.

"Oh, no you don't." After Phoenix shut the door, Larry parked on the side. He waited for Larry, apparently expecting that course of action.

"You have to feed the meter," Phoenix pointed at the parking meter, "You don't want to piss Miles off with a parking ticket, do you?"

"Wait, how do you . . ." Larry decided to not ask how Phoenix knew Miles was the one who paid the rental services.

Larry suspected that 'how Phoenix knew stuff' was one of those things he would have to accept and move on from. "I don't have any coins . . ." Larry admitted. Phoenix nodded and added a quarter, then walked with Larry, who repeated, "Why the courthouse?"

"I have business here. Today. Tomorrow. The next day. And all of next week. Probably."

"Probably?" _Why so much time here, Nick?_

"Depends on how fast I can get this ball rolling." Phoenix completely shifted into another person, one who was much more serious, but not stiff. He had a confidence to him still, but that childlike giddiness was gone.

"Sure. Can you explain what that means, though?" Confident as he was, Phoenix had many mysterious that he still attempted to sidestep.

"Tomorrow. I don't want things to go awry before then. Just know that I am close to being done, but that doesn't mean I can just parade to the end."

"I legit have no clue what you're tryna say, Nick."

"Hmm. No. I suppose not." Phoenix shook his head. He went to a specific wing and stated, "Stay here for a moment."

"Not on your life! I'm goin' with you!"

"I'm just going to stand in line. I have to pay a fee." As they discussed it, the person ahead of them concluded. Phoenix went up to the desk, handed a file over with his ID, signed something off at the front desk, and then wrote out a check. Larry had no idea what the exchange was about, but since it took place at the _courthouse _of all places, he guessed the interaction was nothing bad.

The paperwork was taken to the back, a few moments went by, and a copy was given to Phoenix, as well as something small that Larry could not really see. Phoenix pocketed it all in his briefcase and returned to Larry.

"I'm done here." Phoenix said, "Now I need to return to Bluecorp for a few final preparations. I can't say when I'll be done tonight, so I would prefer to continue this in the morning."

"What's your goal?" Larry's eyebrows tugged, "What was that just now?"

"Tomorrow, Larry. I have to go."

"Hey, wait a minute!"

"You said only one ride, remember?" Phoenix's expression was soft, "And that is what I agreed to. Tomorrow, Larry. See you then."

And then Phoenix walked away. Larry kept pace with him until they were out of the courthouse, but Phoenix quickly navigated the large masses of people walking on the sidewalks, and disappeared from sight, despite having on that obnoxiously bright red suit.

The first thing Larry did, having no way of locating Phoenix after the fact, was call Miles.

Notes:

Ahh, when Phoenix beats Larry at his own game x)


	9. A Calm Before the Storm

A Calm Before The Storm

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 2:33 PM

Miles heard his phone buzzing again for what seemed like the tenth time in a row. He sighed, sitting up on the bed. Missile wagged his tail at the movement, curled up next to Miles, now equally alerted. Miles checked to see who the persistent caller was.

_What now, Larry?_

"Yes." Miles said pointedly, then moved the phone away from his ear.

"DUUUUDE!" As Miles thought, Larry was screaming incoherently and Miles, just only waking up from his nap, had no desire to hear that. Once he counted to ten in his head, Miles carefully put the phone closer to his ear.

"Okay." Miles stood up and walked to the hall with his four-legged companion. "Can you repeat all of that, but without the screaming this time?"

"I talked to him! Where are you right now, Edgey?"

"Talked to who?" Miles searched for traces of Ray, but it appeared he was alone in this house.

"Nick! I saw him – talked to him!"

Miles stopped dead in his tracks, "What? You did?" Miles blinked a few times, then asked, "You confronted him?"

"No, that's the thing. He came up to me . . ."

_Oh, really now? _Miles pretended that did not bother him, though it did, and asked, "And why did he do that?"

"He wants to meet at the courthouse tomorrow morning. At 8."

"8? 8 AM?"

Yeah."

". . . Did he say anything else?" Despite spending an inordinate amount of time wanting and waiting for this opportunity, Miles could not find it in him to be excited. In fact, yelling at Phoenix in agitation seemed to be the current prevailing mood.

"Uh. Yeah. He gave me another note to give you."

"Again? All right, then. What does it say? Wait. Are you in the car or somewhere private?"

"Yeah. No worries, it's just me right now." Larry confirmed. There was a brief moment of silence before he said, "I think he gave us the wrong note this time."

"Read it anyway." Miles rested against a wall and closed his eyes.

"Um. Alright. Okay. 'To hide in plain sight is a must in our line of work, but difficult to pull off for eager, beginner photographers. The rewards of doing so are necessary for wildlife photographs. Augustine M. 2016, memoirs from a wildlife researcher.'"

Miles attempted to parse that, but it was virtually unrelated, "What?"

"See. I told you. he's gave us the wrong note."

"It is way too soon for more games." Miles was distinctively strained by being strung along, as well. "Alright. He wants us to meet up at 8 AM. Where?"

"The courthouse."

"Fascinating. Why there?" Miles' curiosity slowly came back. That could not have been a random location, so there must be a specific reason why he chose there.

"That's where he had me drive him today."

"I am clearly not hearing the full version of your encounter, or it in order. I am at Ray's house, currently, but he is not home. I can give you the address so you can meet me here. How is the rental car?"

"Good. Not a scratch on her!"

Miles prepared to send a text with the address and answered, "Good. See you in a little bit, Larry."

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 3:03 PM

Missile stayed by Miles' side without a leash, as he followed commands well, while they waited for Larry. Once Larry arrived, he stepped out with a greeting, "Yo. Hey, buddy! Who's a good dog!" Missile and Larry greeted each other with comparable energy before Larry closed the car door and all three returned inside. They sat at the kitchen table, unsure how 'comfortable' to make themselves in someone else's home.

"So, start your encounter in order. He approached you and had you take him to the courthouse?" Miles dove straight into it, with a clearer head than most of that month.

Larry nodded, "After my date with Jules."

"Okay. So, it was at Bluecorp that you met him."

"Yeah."

"And he had you take him to the courthouse? Did he say anything during this car trip that stood out?"

"Nah. Not really. He mostly joked around with me the entire ride . . ."

Miles crossed his arms, "You didn't try to get any more information out of him?"

"Look, the dude's kinda on the slippy side. And he's insane. I tried to bring him here, since he was in my car and all. And. Well." Larry bit his cheek.

"Well? Well what?"

"He outsmarted me. Stupid key thing he pulled."

Miles mouthed it back at Larry before saying, "What key thing?"

"So . . . he had a hand on the fob and threatened to throw it out the window . . ."

Miles scoffed, shrugging cockily at Larry with a grin, "If you're saying what I think you're saying, you let him get his hands on your starter after leaving it laying where he could take it. These new designs are horrid."

"Don't you got the same model?"

"And it's superior in every way." Miles pulled out his keys and said, "As you recall, you had to engage the ignition the tried and true way. Had it been _my car_, that whole situation could not have happened."

"Well, mine's got 4G connection and satellite streaming! Does yours!?"

"Larry, 'yours' is a rental. And who in their right mind would make use of such – no, we are straying from the topic at hand. So, Phoenix outsmarted you and you drove him to the courthouse."

"And you fell for his crap too, don't go forgettin' that."

Miles ignored that comment and asked, "Nothing else happened in this timeframe?"

Larry stuck his tongue out in childish reply, then answered, "Not really. He screwed around with the manual most of the time. OH! There was somethin'!"

"Yes?"

"He's not sleeping with that roommate. Dude, was she hot? Why would he not get in some action if she's hot?"

". . . So, what happened at the courthouse?"

"You're just gonna ignore me, then?" Miles maintained a straight-faced glare, giving Larry no choice but to answer the question or risk Edgeworth scorn. Larry decided to cooperate. "He wrote 'em a check and signed some paperwork."

"For what?" Now Miles was perplexed. There were only a few things to pay off at a courthouse, and as one would expect, they all had to do with legal. Parking tickets, trial fees, lawsuits, appeals, and (not limited to) registration.

_Registration,_ Miles mused, _Taking and passing the bar is not enough. The fees to register as a district attorney after the results of said test come as the final hoop in practicing law. _

"I dunno."

"Did he say it was a fine or a fee?" A subtle distinction: something like a parking ticket would be a fine. A service would be a fee. _Registration fees. Court fees._

"Hmm. Did he say either one?" Larry tapped his head, trying to think. ". . . Sorry, man. I don't remember."

"You did not happen to glance at it, did you?" Miles continued to ask. He could narrow it down if he had any more information.

"He said it was nothin' important. Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because, Larry, as you say – that Phoenix is a slippery one. He told you that so you would not see what it was for, which certainly would have shed some light on his current situation."

"Oh . . . I got played again, then?"

"Yes." Miles tittered at the end of a sigh, then said, "He is very good at this. However, if he did require some legal assistance there should be a court record of it somewhere. Though accessing it may be problematic without proper authorization. Still, there might be a chance to find it."

"He did say he was gonna spill the beans tomorrow. Why don't you just ask him then?"

"What if he decides, for some reason or another, to not show up? Or if he tries to manipulate the truth? It is at this point where I deploy my father's skepticism and heed his warnings."

"Alright. You wanna head back to your place?"

Miles looked down at Missile. He knew this would happen eventually, but Miles desired nothing more than to take the dog with him. Evidently, Missile felt the same way as he had not left Miles' side his entire stay. "Let's see that note first. See if we can't make any progress with that, first."

"Yeah. Yeah. Sure." Larry gave himself a pat down. A sudden charge ran down both of their spines – for Miles, it was hot and angry; for Larry, it was cold and harrowing. "Uh. About that note."

_Just breathe, Miles. _He stood up and held out his hand, "Keys. I will go look."

"Keys. Right. Uh."

"Larry. Is there anything in your possession that you have not misplaced?"

"Uhhh . . . my brain?" Larry smiled foolishly.

"Debatable." Miles and Missile went outside so they could check the knockoff car, leaving Larry to overturn all his pockets. Miles opened the unlocked door and found the key fob right away, though he did not see the note.

While Miles checked the car, Missile went to sniff around the tree and some shrubbery on the yard. Once Miles was sure that the note was no longer in the car, he watched his dog rummaging around. Missile ran down into a long and narrow ditch that divided the property of Ray and his neighbor.

He came back up with a dirtied note and delivered it to Miles, somehow knowing exactly what his master was looking for. "Good boy." Miles smiled, scratched Missile's ears, then opened the folded letter.

'to Hide in plain sight is a must in our line of work, but difficult to pull off for eager, beginner photographers. The rewards of doing so are necessary for wildlife Photographs. m. 2016, Memoirs from a wildlife researcher.'

That was exactly what Larry read back to him; but it seemed this misdirected, innocuous note was coded. Easy enough to detect, but harmless to anyone who could not make the connection. Yes, Phoenix was definitely a 'slippery one'.

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 3:33 PM

"Edgeworth speaking."

"Sir. It's Raymond." He sounded serious.

"Any news?" Gregory asked, certain that was why Raymond called.

"Looks like I'm having a harder time getting those records. A lot of sealed reports and an extravagant Easter Egg Extravaganza Hunt. I have his home information, his school records – college and high school – and some of his employment from France. Two problems, though – the sealed records being the obvious. The second is he did a lot of abroad work."

"Abroad? He did move to France when he was 11." Gregory refuted, "I don't think 'abroad' applies here."

"Maybe. I see hints of him working in England, Spain, Italy, Germany, and several Russian and Ukrainian countries. He does . . . move around a lot. Rents but never buys. He goes for work, but never officially removed himself from his aunt's residence, so I imagine he doesn't stay anywhere for very long. I'm still working on what he is employed as."

"Hmm. That is interesting. What did he study in college?"

"An Associate in Liberal Arts – specifically, Theatre Arts. I have seen some hinting at a transferal, but he did at least accomplish that much. I will see if I can find anything else."

". . . Okay. Thank you, Ray."

"Sir. Might be tomorrow night before I get everything straightened out."

"There is no need to rush. Let me know if you need help with anything." Gregory offered.

"Understood, sir. Talk to you in a bit." Raymond hung up and Gregory sat the telephone back into its holder. If Phoenix's employment was broken up by country, obtaining a full record's list might be trickier. That information only made Gregory doubt Phoenix more . . . cross country smuggling, gang activity, and other illegal operations came to mind, although there was no solid proof, still.

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 3:42 PM

"Do you have a photo album that you keep pictures in?" Miles asked Larry, who gave him an odd look.

"Not really. Most of my pics are digital. Why?"

Miles presented missing items and said, "I found your keys. Missile found the note. I understand perfectly what Phoenix wrote now that I have seen it . . . but I confess, I do not have a great way of fulfilling the request."

"There was a request in that thing?" Larry read it over and still was confused.

"Look at the capitalized words. Read what it says then, ignoring everything else."

"Hide . . . Photographs . . . Augustine Memoirs?"

"There's a splotch in Augustine's name. And you missed a word."

'to **Hide** in plain sight is a must in our line of work, but difficult to pull off for eager, beginner photographers. **The** rewards of doing so are necessary for wildlife **Photographs**. **August**.ine m. **2016**, **Memoirs** from a wildlife researcher.'

"Hide the photographs. August 2016 Memoirs. I imagine it is an afterthought to his poorly contrived joke and realized that there is still evidence that I trespassed, now in my possession. I was going consult my Father on what to do, regardless."

Larry detected some venom, unusual from Miles' normal tone. "You know, you've been acting a bit salty today. Is something botherin' you, man?"

". . . Anyway, I believe the best course of action would be either destroy these photos entirely or hide them behind existing photos in another album. Something that probably would not be searched. Although . . . I do think destroying them would be the safest."

"Oh. That's too bad. But, I see your point . . .Can you do it, though?"

"I am not so sentimental to become attached to these photos. Not especially since they can be condemning if White decides to sue me."

Larry shrugged, "Too true. . . . Well, I'll leave that to you, then."

"I will ask Father for his opinion, first . . . You and I should explain our interactions with Phoenix over the last few days."

"Let's take Missile with us! I am sure your dad won't mind if he's at the office for a few hours, right?"

"Tempting. He did retrieve what you lost, didn't he?" Miles proudly patted the dog's fluffy head. "I would argue that he is an invaluable asset to this case. Agreed?"

"Right!" Larry exclaimed.

Notes:

Wonder why Miles would be salty...?

Also, damn drama students, always with the theatrics and stuff.


	10. Things Gone Awry

Things Gone Awry

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 5:28 PM

"Julia," Phoenix handed her a copy of his resignation while in her office, "I will no longer be working here."

"Oh . . . I see." She took the copy and filed it on a few others.

"I would like to apologize for upsetting you the other day. I wasn't going to get you in trouble or anything." Phoenix adjusted the classes on his face, still in contrast to his red suit.

"I . . . it's okay. I just didn't expect it from you. You were always so much nicer than the other men here." She crossed her arms – a defense response.

"I knew your boyfriend in grade school. He had some embarrassing stories from back then that I didn't want you to hear. It was completely a selfish, self-defensive act."

"Aren't you French?" she caught that contradiction pretty quickly, didn't she?

"I grew up here. Then over there. I knew Larry from back then."

"Oh. . . . Okay. I will have to ask him about those embarrassing stories."

"Yup. And what he tells you about me, I can tell you about him in return. And trust me, there's a lot."

Julia smiled at him for the first time in a while. "It's a bit sad to see you go . . . like I said, you're one of the nicer ones around here."

"Hmm. Well. If you ever need anything, just let me know. Here." Phoenix handed her a business card. She offered one of hers in return.

Julia relaxed and said, "I hope to stay in contact. Since your friends with Larry, I'd like to think that's possible."

"It is." Phoenix smiled, "You take care of yourself." Phoenix then saw a statue of what looked to be the thinker on her desk. _Didn't Larry's murder trial have something to do with a statue like that?_

Julia returned the farewell, "You too, Mr. –"

"Mr. Wright." The blood in his veins ran icy. He turned to see Mr. White standing in the doorway, hovering menacingly in Phoenix's only escape.

"Mr. . . Wright?" She looked between the two men, confused but also sensing some tension.

_How did he know? _Phoenix let a few seconds go by, fiddling with something in his pocket, before he said to Julia, ". . . That work can be completed tomorrow, right? Why don't you go home for the night?"

"You heard Mr. Wrong, right darling?" White glinted and moved to the side, "Go on home, to your humble abode, Miss lovely Julia."

She stood up nervously. Phoenix nodded at her, wanting her to escape before she becomes witness to something gruesome. "Oh, and dear?" Mr. White grinned, "Say a word about this to anyone and you'll find yourself in need of a good lawyer. And a doctor."

"Mmmm!" She squeaked and shook violently.

"Julia." Phoenix calmed her down, "Do as he says. Leave. Do not contact the police. Or your friends and family. Keep yourself out of this."

Julia grabbed her car keys and wallet, then ran out the door. White caught her and she screamed.

"Don't!" Phoenix shouted. "Don't hurt her."

White eyed Phoenix and stole her phone. "All but this can go with you."

"Al-Alright . . ." She cried.

"Now, go home and watch something funny! Get your mind off of these altervocations!" He let her go and laughed as she sprinted away.

Phoenix glared at him. White shifted back into place, blocking him off and cornering him. _I need to stay calm and wait for an opening. _Phoenix stalled for time, "What do you want?"

"Is that any way to address your superior?"

"You are not my boss."

"That is not what I mean. I mean that I am superior to a lowly creature like you in every conceivanable aspect."

"Except in vocabulary," Phoenix retorted, causing the Bluecorp CEO to frown.

"Well! Aren't you a spry one! Mr. Wrong, I have just one thing to say to you . . ." White held out a document that Phoenix recognized right away.

"That paperwork –"

"Yes. You submitted it only three hours ago. How, you ask, that it came to be in my personage's possitasion? I have connections, you see. Informants. I would say congratulatories were called for, except that I'm told you mean to move against me."

". . . An informant, huh? I should have expected that."

"You really should have, Mr. Wrong! Unfortunately for you, I cannot afford to let a parasite squander my business. Now. If you don't mind doing one last thing for me, Mr. Wrong . . ."

"And what would that be?" _Though I have a guess._

"I need you to stay silent . . . forever. Farewell, Mr. Wrong."

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 5:32 PM

Gregory looked at the album, then to the puzzle box, and finally to all the notes that accompanied them. Miles and Larry confessed to it all, leaving Gregory only to sigh. "Am I forced to assign safety courses to you again, Miles?"

Those hour or two long videos of how to safely and legally obtain evidence for law. It was boring and the acting stale. Miles could think of no worse punishment, and that included disbarment. "I . . . I will be careful in the future."

"I want to go with you in meeting Phoenix." Gregory requested and Miles nodded. "Well. You have been honest with me, so I suppose I should return the favor." Gregory thumbed through the pictures, "Ray and I are trying to access sealed files from Phoenix's past. It's slower than we thought it would be, but we should have some answers soon."

"Why are they sealed?" Miles wondered.

"That's what we would like to know as well. In due time, we may have an answer. Larry? Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Oh? Sure!" Larry nodded.

"Great. We will head out as soon as Ray gets back."

"Father, I need to research for a paper. I am not sure how far ahead I still am. I would like to stay here and work on the assignment, if that is okay."

"Hmm. Right. Your education is also important." Gregory seemed saddened, "I will bring back something for you, then."

"Thank you. We can have dinner tomorrow night, Father."

"Aw." Larry pouted.

". . . Just because I am staying behind does not mean you have to." Miles said, "Go. You're practically a live-in anyway."

"Whoop! Thanks, Edgey!"

"Welcome." Miles went to his computer and opened his textbook. Missile trotted along with him and lazily napped under the desk. Soon, it was just Miles and Missile again.

Miles saw a notification flash in the bottom of the screen. Curiously, he opened it. It was from Aunt Annie and it read, 'Sorry sweetie, you are too young for me. Hit me up in a few years.'

Miles furrowed his brow and replied, 'I was asking about Phoenix. I am not sure what you are responding to?' After a few minutes of no response, he continued to write his paper.

_No more thinking about Phoenix until tomorrow._

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 6:47 PM

Miles was satisfied with his paper. Luckily, that meant he was at a good stopping point before Gregory, Raymond, and Larry came back in. Wordless, Gregory sat Miles' dinner for him and turned on the news. A solemn note hung over the three of them.

"What is wrong?" Miles asked.

Gregory turned up the volume and pointed. The news anchor narrated, ". . . apartment 3C. Police are currently investigating the crime scene and will provide more details. More at 8." Miles recognized the apartment complex.

"Crime scene?" He asked.

"A body was found in apartment 3C." Gregory answered.

"But that's the one Phoenix is renting!" Miles flinched, "Who – Who was found?"

"They did not say." Gregory crossed his arms. Miles stood up as if he were going to look himself, but Gregory stopped him, "They will not let you on. The police will likely investigate for the rest of the night."

"Then what do we do . . .?" Miles stomach dropped in a way similar to learning of his father's disappointment – then the next closest he could recall was learning that Phoenix moved far, far away and they would likely not see one another again. Even this topped both of those incidents combined in how unwell he felt.

"You need to eat and rest and save your strength for tomorrow. I fear it will be a taxing day." Gregory ordered.

"Right." Ray did not even pretend to joke, "I am sorry Miles. If I find anything out, I will call here."

"You are going to the prosecutor's offices? Again?" Gregory asked.

"Yeah. Someone there's got to know something. Hey. Chin up, Miles. It wouldn't do us any good jumping to conclusions." Miles might have nodded; he was not too sure of his own body right now. Raymond left without another second wasted. Larry and Missile both looked at Miles in the same way – strange how a human and a dog could mimic one another's facial expressions so correspondingly.

Gregory rolled out the cot from the closet, "Listen, you two. There are more than enough places for you to sleep here for the night. We can discuss what to do in the morning." Miles sat back down, watching the television.

They replayed the same clip with the same useless information. While Gregory was still awake, he kept reminding Miles to eat – but his stomach protested, feeling very ill. Miles feebly explained it and Gregory understood, but reminded him to 'eat when he is able to'.

The four of them shared in a miserable silence, but Larry decided to stay. He played games on his phone, took care of Missile's dinner and bathroom breaks, and eventually crashed early at 9:00 PM. Gregory was not too far behind him.

Miles worked ahead on college assignments, though feeling that his work was subpar. It did not matter – he was still ahead and could correct it when his mind could improve the quality, he just needed something to focus on.

The 10 o'clock news came on and revealed nothing new. Just an endless repeat of unknowns. Ray came in and locked up shortly after. Miles left Gregory's office to join Ray in the other rooms to not disturb the slumbering men and dog.

"All I know is that it is a murder case." Ray said, "They were stingy on the names, but they have a suspect in custody and another potential unapprehended. I bet we can get some information out of this suspect if we go in wanting to hear their plea."

"Two suspects?" Miles repeated.

"Probably the source of all their hush-hush. One still out on the street that the hound detectives have yet to sniff out."

"I . . . see . . . You don't know who was killed, then?"

Raymond shook his head, "No. Not a clue. I'll run my thoughts to senior Edgeworth in the morning. Try to rest up, Miles."

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 5:47 AM

Miles woke up at his desk and felt Missile plop his head in his lap. Miles absentmindedly loved on the dog. He passed out while reviewing his last paper, evidently, as the word processor shone a completed document. Miles looked at the television. The 6 o'clock news would soon reel, and with it, tired information. In only two hours, it would be 8 AM. They were supposed to meet Phoenix at that time . . .

Miles doubted the meeting would occur.

Instead, they would be meeting with the murder suspect, if Raymond's plan was approved, and learn about the crime that way. Miles saved his work and watched the news, expecting nothing new to come to light. He never did touch his food from the night before. His stomach panged, and he decided to give in to his biological need.

He was quiet as he moved to the kitchen, bringing his left-out meal along with him. Miles readied an accompanying glass of water to wet his dry mouth and throat, then made sure Missile had his own breakfast. Larry and Gregory both still rested peacefully, despite the change in direction this whole situation dove into. Missile trotted back in to snuggle with Larry after sniffing at breakfast.

After he took in what he could, Miles dug out a towel and spare undergarments from the toiletries closet, found a few hangers in the bathroom, took off his many layers of clothing attire, and carefully hung them up so he could take a quick shower.

The warm water helped to clear his head. As it relaxed building pressure aches, Miles thought about Phoenix when they were all children. It did not help him, any.

He then thought of the profile angle of the man he saw, wearing that absurd beanie hat. Tan features and bright blue eyes stood out to Miles. Black hair poorly hidden at the nape of his neck. Miles really should have seen it sooner, but his mental image of Phoenix was shaky at best. It just proved that Miles could not pick Phoenix from a crowd since he had no idea what the man actually looked like anymore.

That may have been his only chance at asking Phoenix . . .

Just what the hell he had been doing! How dare he run Miles around in circles and not have the decency to live and tell the tale on his own! Miles would never forgive Phoenix for that . . . Yet, it was hard to stay angry at the dead.

_Do not jump to conclusions . . ._

If it was not Phoenix who was murdered in that apartment, then it must have been his accomplice. If it was her, instead, the most likely suspect in custody would be . . .

_Phoenix Wright . . ._

So, he was either the corpse or the suspect. If he was the suspect, then Miles would tear him a new one in the detention center. If he was the corpse, Miles would see if that spirit channeling thing was more than a hoax and verbally rend him from beyond death itself. Either way, Phoenix was getting a piece of Miles' upset mind.

Once the warm water steamed the bathroom fully, Miles shut the water off and dried off. He readied himself as he normally would, pushing emotions down. They would only serve to get in his way today. He dressed himself once more after brushing his hair and teeth, then stepped out.

Gregory had awakened during his time in the shower and waited for a kettle to boil. "I'm glad to see you taking care of yourself."

"Good morning, Father."

"Good morning, Miles. Did you sleep at all?"

"I think I must have." Miles recalled, though when exactly he gave into his heavy eyes he could not say.

"You sound so unsure. It's . . . unsettling." Gregory smiled softly, "Whatever happens today, whatever painful truths that may wait, promise me you will not do anything rash."

"Rash?"

"It's not like you to act on emotions, normally, but I know you are struggling with this. I will trust you to do the right thing, if you can do the same for me."

"Ah." Miles grabbed his arm, "Of course, Father."

"Good. I have spoken to Ray and I know that there is a suspect in custody. He believes the best course of action is to hear the suspect out and learn details that way. It is not a bad strategy; however . . . Suppose that the suspect in question truly had a hand in murdering the victim – whom we still do not know the identity of – do you think you can handle that?"

_If the police corralled the right suspect, then who we would be talking to . . . _"The suspect in question could have committed the murder . . ."

"And the victim could be Phoenix. Are you prepared for that outcome?"

Miles crossed his arms, ". . . Not in the least."

"At least you're honest about it. Of course, it could be Phoenix sitting in the cell. I suppose at that point he would be forced to tell us everything."

"Hmm? You, too, then?"

"Me, too?" The kettle whistled and Gregory took care of it, "I suppose I would like to know what that one has been doing. Oh. I forgot to tell you . . . Ray did find something of a record that wasn't sealed."

"What would that be?"

"He graduated a two-year Associates program. For Theatre Arts."

". . .Oh . . ." _Drama, then. Seems fitting._

"From those notes that he left for you and Larry, it makes sense. I do have only one thing to say about that."

"Which is?" Miles asked.

"Your friend needs a better sense of humor." Gregory answered while pouring the tea.

"Hah. Isn't that the truth."

"It's good to see you smile." Gregory sat down at the table and offered tea again. A morning blend that helped the brain to churn. Miles accepted and they silently drank together.

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 8:27 AM

Miles, Missile, and Gregory waited outside the courthouse, though they knew it already. Phoenix could not fulfil his proposed meetup, but there was little else to do until the detention center allowed them in. Ray went to the prosecutor's offices again to negotiate and Larry had still been asleep. Gregory patted Miles on the back and said, "Time to go see our suspect."


	11. Turnabout Sisters

Summary:

The first investigation phase begins.

Turnabout Sisters

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 9:01 AM

Miles felt his anxiety, induced by the situation at hand, strengthen as they approached the Detention Center. Missile waited outside, sitting prettily and still, as the poor animal was not allowed inside. _Need to make him a service animal,_ Miles thought. It wasn't too farfetched of an idea and Missile outwitted most humans, anyway.

"We would like to speak with the suspect in custody as of last night." Gregory gave as much details, dancing around the fact that they knew not whom they would speak with, and presented his proof of attorney to the front worker.

"Please follow me, sirs."

When they entered the visitation's room, a woman sat behind the glass pane. Miles recognized her immediately, the woman who held him at gunpoint, and said, "You?" _I feel worse. This can't mean well for Wright. . ._

"You wasted no time, huh? Red Samurai. . ." She shook her head. "What do you two want?"

Gregory took a seat and Miles followed in hesitation. Gregory addressed her, "As we're meeting again, Miss, I expect proper introductions are in order. I am Gregory Edgeworth and this is –"

"What happened?" Miles blurted out, unable to contain it any longer.

" . . . my son. Miles Edgeworth. We are Defense Attorneys, looking to hear your version of events. Let us start with your name."

"Fine. But I have the right to refuse your help. My name is Ruby Frost."

"Frost?" Gregory scratched his chin, "I know I have heard that name before. Miss Frost, can you clarify your relation to the victim?"

"The victim . . . she was my younger sister, Fiona."

Miles repeated, "Your sister?" _Two beds at that apartment for two sisters . . . so there were three people involved after all._

"I see. Miss Frost, your sister was found in the apartment complex that you shared with Mr. Wright. Is there anything else you can tell us about the murder?"

"Look," she brushed her whitish hair to the side and folded her arms, "I ain't dumb, pops. The only reason either of you care is because of Wright."

"You would be mistaken." Gregory frowned, "We care about upholding the truth and ensuring the proper people receive their proper sentencing."

". . . You haven't heard from him have you?" She looked away.

"No." Miles answered, "I take it he is the other 'unapprehended' suspect, though." _A victim, a suspect, and a criminal on the run._

"Probably. Would explain why he didn't get in touch." Ruby answered dismissively.

Miles thought about it for a few seconds before asserting, "You are withholding information because you believe we would drop you for Wright. Need I remind you that there are two of us present?"

"Red Samurai, would you believe in my innocence?"

"Unless otherwise proven, I see no reason not to. If you did not commit the murder, then you would need a proper defense."

"What my son is saying, in essence, is we can investigate this situation in earnest on your behalf. But we will not be able to do so without a letter of request from you."

Ruby bit her lip while curbing laughter, "You mean you can't go pokin' around the crime scene with my say-so. You're one-dimensional and vile. No deal."

"You would rather go without an attorney?" Miles said.

"I'll be assigned one is what they said to me. My sister is dead. Do you even care? Or are you just relieved it ain't your precious boy?"

_. . . She may have a point._

"Miss Frost, this day was going to be a tragedy no matter who died. I am deeply sorry for your loss and would love the chance to find justice for your sister. Please reconsider," Gregory slid his business card under the glass, "and if you decide to, give us a call."

"You're a decent actor, pops. I'll think about it. Guards! I'm done here!"

The officers escorted the Edgeworths out as they took the suspect, Ruby, back. On the outside, Missile returned to his people and Miles asked, "Well, now what? We cannot search the crime scene as we are."

"She might warm up to the idea after we give her space. I am going to look into something in the meantime. Do you have any thoughts?"

_What can I do at this point? Ray is negotiating with the prosecutors and father is . . . _"What are you looking into?"

"Frost. I have heard that name before." Gregory seemed to be contemplating something since that name came up.

Miles spoke a thought he had earlier, "Two beds. One for each sister . . . there were three people staying there."

"Yes. Strange. It seems like your friend is now evading the police. It would be nice to know who saw him last and learn why he feels the need to run."

"Right. He's still acting suspiciously . . ." Miles frustratedly thought about his options, frowning greatly as he did. _The apartment is out of the question for now. Phoenix is wanted and M.I.A. I have no way of reaching out to him, either. Bluecorp is still not an option, either._

"Father, can you take me back by my apartment, please? I will drive my own car back to the offices. If I come up with an idea, I will let you know . . ."

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 10:06 AM

"How'd it go?" Larry asked, muting the racecar program playing on the television. Miles waved him to discuss it outside while Gregory researched the Frosts. Miles explained the detention center suspect and the victim were both Frosts and that Phoenix was still untraceable.

"Poor girl." Larry bit his cheek, "I guess that's . . . good news for Nicky, though."

Miles ignored that obnoxious feeling of relief and said, "Unless Ray or Father can find information, we are stuck with what we knew before. Oh. Larry? Are you going on another date?" He checked his watch and realized the time.

"Every day at noon."

". . . Hmm." _A Bluecorp insider. That might be something I can use. _"You know how I wanted you not to ask her about Phoenix? Now might be the perfect time to bring it up."

"Oh?" Larry scratched his head. "Hm. Yeah. Probably."

"May I do the asking?"

"Uhh. We been over this before. Dude, it's a 'date'. As in, get your own!"

"Larry." Miles tried to stop glaring, but it was extremely difficult not to let his eyes squint, "You know I wouldn't be asking if I had any other possible leads."

"Fine. Lemme give her a call real quick." They waited for several rings and it hit voicemail. "She must be busy. Kay. Date's in less than two hours. You think you'll be ready?"

"I am ready now, truth be told. What about you?"

"I'll just send her a quick text and stop by home. Meet you up there separately." He typed a message and then said, "Done! See ya in a bit!"

Miles went back inside and waited it out. Gregory glanced up and said, "Just you?"

"Larry's getting ready for his date . . . I might step out for a bit."

"Where to?"

"When Larry meets up with Julia, I wanted to ask her if she knew Phoenix. She works at Bluecorp."

Gregory adjusted his glasses, "I see. Just be careful. I did find why I knew the name 'Frost'. There were once three sisters – Ruby, Fiona, and Ursula Frost. The youngest, Ursula, was murdered in June of 2015, last summer."

"Another Frost? Murdered?" Miles would normally sit down and discuss this, but his body stiffened unnaturally today.

"Yes. Ruby Frost commented in an article, stating the accused did not commit the murder and that it was Redd White who did. Despite this testimony from her, the accused rookie detective, Marcus Moreno, was found guilty."

"If what she wrote is true, then it makes sense how she is involved with White and why she or her sister would become a target."

"Yes. If we learned of her name before this incident occurred, we might have made that connection much, much sooner." Gregory sighed, "I will keep looking. The connection must then exist, somewhere, between those sisters and Phoenix."

"Okay. Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome, Miles. . . . If he knew that White was this dangerous, Phoenix might be better off avoiding us."

"Why would you say that?"

". . . White is a known manipulator, but it is unclear who all he has trained under his thumb. One of the weaknesses of the law, I suppose, is that it is carried out by men and women who are fickle themselves."

"We would never be slaves to that man. Phoenix, of all people, should realize that." Miles argued with a flash of heat on his face.

"That is a lot of faith in someone you haven't seen in thirteen years. The same in reverse, if you think about it. How could he know where your loyalties lay?"

"Not with a tyrannical corrupt businessman. That much should be obvious."

"I will remind you, again, that as far as that claim goes, the courts will see it as supposition. Speaking of, if White is the true perpetrator, we must act carefully. I wonder if that is what Phoenix is doing?"

"Would he be in more danger resisting arrest?"

". . . We need to investigate that crime scene. I can't put my finger on it just yet, but I wonder if he was even at his apartment last night. If Miss Frost calls, I will let you know." Gregory read through articles, leaving Miles to consider quietly.

"You think Phoenix was elsewhere last night?" Miles finally asked.

Gregory sat up straight and explained, "Well . . . I would be surprised if he could outrun the police, had they been actively searching for him. The way the news is wording the crime, they have neglected to name either suspect. I would imagine that means they suspect Phoenix, but do not have a way to pinpoint him at the apartments just yet. He rents it, yes, but that means very little if he was not home."

"If Phoenix was at the apartment last night, he would be in custody today?" Miles crossed his arms, starting to visualize what Gregory claimed.

"And if Phoenix did outrun them, somehow, he would already know he was a suspect. It's almost as if . . . they want to draw him out by giving him false pretense that he is not the main suspect and then arrest him unawares."

Miles tapped his arm with his finger. "Then it would be easy to spin the blame on him."

Gregory nodded, "Yes. They could claim he avoided arrest, purposefully. That may be true to some degree, but . . ."

"Unless someone saw him at the apartments . . ." Miles followed the thought path.

" . . . it would be hard to say with certainty that Phoenix was even there to begin with. So, they are forced to use these tactics to muddy those waters."

"At most, he would be guilty of running a business out of the apartment, changing those locks, and allowing people outside his contract to live there."

"But I do wonder if Miss Ruby Frost witnessed the murder and this is a way to silence her as well. Either way, this case is already raising my suspicion."

"I do not think so. She would have been killed, too, correct?" Miles closed his eyes.

"Unless witnesses already alerted the police and Whi – the perpetrator only had time to murder one sister. Miss Ruby already openly claimed that White murdered Ursula. . . that is a stain on his name, regardless of the weight it holds. There is motive . . . but we need to tie it all together."

"We need Ruby to tell us what she knows." Miles concluded as well, then checked the time again.

"See what you can learn from Larry's friend. There is probably more to this than we know."

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 12:11 PM

"Strange. She normally exits those doors by now." Larry said as they waited in the back-parking lot. Missile sniffed around, minding his own business.

Miles asked, "You don't think anything has happened to her?" With how things were shaping out, Miles would not doubt the possibility.

"I'll call again." They were unusually silent as the call rang several times, then went to voicemail. "Damn. Nothin'. Dude, stop clawing into your arm!"

Miles let go of his grip and said in a daze, "Oh, was I? Sorry, just really stressed." _I hope nothing has happened. _"Let's wait a little bit longer."

"Yup. Wasn't gonna go anywhere anyway." They found nothing to say to each other in the few more strained moments that followed, but Julia eventually parked next to them and stepped out of her baby blue smart car. "Um. Hi, Larry."

Missile sniffed at her feet, barked approvingly once, and waited for his due adoration. She smiled and pet the boy then said, "Aw. Who is this? And . . . who are you?" She asked once noticing Miles.

"These are two of my good friends." Larry answered with a smile.

She frowned again, "Oh. Your friends."

"Yeah! Hey, what's up? You feelin' alright?"

_She's surprisingly normal. _"Nice to meet you. I am Miles. I have to agree with Larry, you seem agitated by something."

"Oh?" She stood up straight and allowed Missile to lean into her legs, "Do I? Sorry. I called off work today. I forgot to let you know . . . Um. I may be planning a last-minute trip to see family."

"Sounds fun!" Larry approved, hoping to cheer the group's entire mood.

"Yes. Fun." She murmured. Miles felt his eyes narrow at her.

"Hey, I called you a couple of times." Larry mentioned, but non-aggressively.

Julia put a hand over her mouth and said, "I lost my phone. Anyway, I wanted to make sure you didn't wait up for me."

"You lost your phone but still managed to call in?" Miles asked.

"I have a house phone. I didn't copy your number down, though, Larry."

"It's cool," Larry shot Miles a glare of his own before smiling back at Julia.

"Before the two of you go," Miles sought his opportunity, "I have to ask you, Julia. Do you know a person who might work here? He is a friend of ours."

"Oh. I am. Not sure. Who – who are you thinking?" She began to twist her hair.

"Phoenix Wright."

"Never heard of Phoenix . . . Wright? Hmm." She covered her mouth once more.

_There it is again. _"Miss Julia, you are absolutely positive of this?"

"Yes. I am sure! Leave me alone!" She became incredibly defensive in a matter of seconds and Miles felt his interrogative side shine through.

"Dude, back off." Larry warned, "She said she doesn't know."

"Unfortunately, I do not believe that."

"Screw off! Believe what you wanna believe, but don't go 'round interrogatin' people based off a hunch."

"I am not interrogating . . ."

"I – I am sorry. Your friend . . . is he . . . in trouble?"

_Still think her behavior is coincidence, Larry? _"I believe so, yes."

"I . . . see. I am so sorry, but I can't help you." She tugged at her shirt and refused to make eye contact with Miles.

"Not a problem, Miss Julia. If you happen to remember anything, have Larry give me a call. If you will excuse me . . ." _As long as Larry is trying to be her knight, I can't force anything out of her. What an annoyance._

Missile stayed with Julia, wagging his tail up at her. "Missile?" Miles called, then a thought occurred to him. "Good boy. Stay with those two. It looks like they need you more than I do."

_Missile might be able to pull out the truth in a friendlier way than I can._

"Are you sure, man?"

"Of course. Missile is smart, you will not have to worry about him. There's an outdoor dog restaurant just five minutes from here that serves food compliant with dogs and their owners alike. I'm sure you can check it out for his sake?"

"Sounds interesting." Julia smiled, "Do you have the address."

"Of course." Miles smiled. _Ah. Missile. You are a great dog._

"Um. Okay. I will bring him by the offices later." Larry shrugged it off, unsuspecting of Miles' overreaching plan.

"Hmm." Miles thought in the parking lot, now alone again. _Missing phone. Acting scared. White's involvement. The Frosts. These events could all be interconnected somehow._

A girl with pink hair and matching dress came out the back door and said, "Well, if that little punk hadn't pulled the fire alarm, we would have found him. I know, sir, I know! We'll find him, I swear."

_Fire alarm?_

"Well, how am I supposed to know where he went? Yeah, he wasn't at either location . . . no, no, the police aren't looking there! Okay, I'll check again!" She shut the phone with a loud thud and let out a scream, "ARRRUGHHH! How is this my fault!?" She then saw Miles and perked up, "OOoooh waa! Sowwy there big boy! I didn't see you, rawr!" She winked at him and Miles felt more repulsed than had she just owned up to the outburst.

"It is quite alright . . . Miss."

"May! But you may call me April, teehee!" _What lunacy has stumbled my way?_

Miles then let out a huff of his own, "I am sorry for overhearing you, Miss April. I should really be going, though."

"Oooh! Wait! You look . . . hmm. Dashing. Would you care to listen to a lady's woes?"

_Well now. Maybe this is the opportunity I've been waiting for._ Miles smiled and said, "Why not? What troubles you, Miss April?"

"Let's walk. I don't need my boss overhearing me." She rolled her eyes, "By the way, you weren't waiting for someone, were you?"

"Not exactly. Were you?" Miles asked.

"Oh, I've got five office boyfriends, but none have your allure. How about I go for six?" She winked.

Miles internally sighed. "That is very . . . forthcoming of you."

"Relax! Everyone's got a date or twelve. Intermingling is not only encouraged; it brings about a tighter workspace." April let her tongue hang out flippantly.

_I sincerely doubt that. _"Vexing. Did you have something you wanted to air out?"

"Well, someone pulled the fire alarm last night. Of course, the police and the firefighters respond in a minute. Everyone left had to be escorted down . . . There was . . . um . . . a mix-up at that point. I can't tell you about that! But the punk who pulled the alarm hasn't been found yet and apparently that's _my fault_."

_Interesting. Something about that actually seems useful. _"What time was the alarm pulled?"

"5:30."

". . . Who pulled it?"

"Oh. That's. . . well, I can't tell you. But his French hair is SO gonna get grilled! French fried hair!"

_French, huh? _". . . Miss April. You are absolutely sure that you cannot tell me who it is? Maybe I can assist in your search?"

"Tell you what, hotshot. I'll let you 'assist' down south," She pulled Miles fingers toward her crotch, to which he quickly removed his hand.

"That will not be necessary."

"All work and no play makes Jack a dull but naughty boy."

"That is . . . not how that saying goes." _Or even used in the appropriate application._

"Naughty and wrung up. You'd cum in less than a minute anyway." She blew him a kiss on her hand and he felt that vein in his temple pop out. "Oh? Is that not the issue? Hey! Are we sporting the same team?"

"And what, pray tell, does that mean?"

"Y'know. Do you crave dick as much as I do? You look the type. The dolled-up ones always do."

". . . Anyway, I believe that our morals are incompatible, Miss May, so I shall be taking my leave." Miles began to walk away, and she bounced toward him.

"Wait, wait! If you answer this for me, I might tell you. Something. Do you like demure guys or ones that can throw you across the room?"

"Who in their right mind wants to be thrown across a room?"

"Hmm." She brought her hands up to mimic what looked like a cat and winked. "So, you like soft, pretty boys?"

"I _never _said that."

"Aha! You like teddy bear men! That's a popular choice, so I hear. Do you find White attractive?"

_Not in the least. _". . . Can we stop discussing my attractions? There is nothing to gain from this."

"I am conducting my own research, teehee. I am just curious, y'know?" she stuck her tongue out again.

"Do not pry into other's personal business. It is very unbecoming. Now, if you will excuse me." Miles started to fume but he could not afford to waste time correcting this young woman's behavior. Sex starved people were the absolute worst people, who trampled on people's personal spaces way too frequently. Part of the reason why Larry drove Miles so crazy was because he exhibited a lot of those same tendencies.

"Prude!" she yelled after him, but Miles could not care any less at this point. If someone pulled the fire alarm, they would have had good reason to do so. Fortunately, he had a timeline mapped out in his head and a probable person who might have pulled the alarm.

#

Wednesday August 10th 2016 – 5:34 PM

Phoenix ran out of Julia's office the moment White left an opening – but it did come at a price. He buried his left hand and wrist under his right armpit, trying not to scream out in pain, and pulled the fire alarm on his escape. Immediately, all workers dropped what they were doing and crowded around the halls to the stairwells. Phoenix brushed passed people, leaving the handful of workers to block White from catching up to him.

White may have had time and agility to pursue, but he had that statue in his hands and security footage around various strategic locations. The wrong witnesses and the wrong cops could tarnish his carefully crafted image, and so the hunt for Wright would have to wait.

Notes:

Hope this clears up worries :)

If there's any questions, please let me know. It's one thing to have a game handle and draw together all these various hints and clues, but it's difficult sometimes to keep it all straight in writing.


	12. Suit' of Diamonds

Summary:

Part 2 of the investigation phase.

'Suit' of Diamonds

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 1:18 PM

Miles calmed down after his interaction with that April woman enough to disguise his disgust from his father, who merely interpreted his son's mood based on his week as a whole. Gregory talked on the phone with Ray and the conversation ended as Miles opened the photobook. They still had yet to do anything with it, and Miles inspected Phoenix's handwriting.

Gregory broke through the trance and commanded, phrased as a question but delivered as an instruction, "Are you hungry. We need to eat."

And like that, Gregory decided to make the pair lunch. Miles closed the album, but took the first note found in the puzzle box with him. He then followed Gregory into the kitchen who prepared simple noodles. "Raymond said the prosecutors are being unforthcoming with their information on Phoenix, confirming him to be the secondary suspect, as we thought."

"I did not expect much else." Miles took a seat and lightly thumbed across the letters, feeling the slight raise from the ink.

"Your tone is sounding flat."

Miles folded the note and put it in his pocket. "I do think Julia knows something about Phoenix, but she would not talk. That seems to be how this day is going, doesn't it?"

Gregory took a pause in his meal prep, then said, "And this is why it is ill-advised to defend friends and family. I am sure you are not used to this feeling, but you are too focused on what we do not have, instead of what we do. The day is not over yet, Miles. We still have time to spare."

"In less than three hours, this case will be taken out of our hands and automatically assigned to someone else. By then, it may not matter what we know."

"For Miss Ruby Frost, that is certain . . . Hmm. It does beg the question on whether they will wait for her trial or begin without first interrogating Phoenix."

"Hmm." Miles rubbed his face with both hands, lingering in the cool darkness of his palms for a moment. He allowed some light in through parted fingers, wondering what he could do now. Defense attorneys had no footing in the legal system and had to bargain or hunt for scraps. Miles realized it long ago but took it as a challenge back then. Right now, it weighed him down like an uneven scale.

Miles finally spoke, "He wouldn't deny us like Frost did, would he?"

"I cannot say what that one is thinking. Only that, if we are looking at this in the best light, Phoenix would be more on the run from White than the police. If you believe what Frost has said both to you and in 2015."

"Why did he involve himself in this in the first place?" Miles asked.

"I do not know."

Miles retreated into his hands again. If only they could at least learn one thing.

_Fire alarm at 5:30._

"Did they say on the news when the murder took place?"

"We first heard it at 6:30 or so, after we finished dinner." Gregory answered.

_An hour or less difference. . . Are these two events connected?_

"How long does it take to travel from Bluecorp to those apartments?" Miles plugged the two into his GPS. It was about a 20-minute drive . . .

_Even if Phoenix was the one who pulled that fire alarm, it doesn't give him an alibi. At 5:30, the fire alarm went off. At the earliest, he could arrive at those apartments at 5:50. _

_Then again, it doesn't give White one, either. _Miles recognized, then stood up to go to his computer, but Gregory adamantly stopped him. "No work until after you eat."

"Hmm." Miles sat down and Gregory served food.

"You promised me at least one meal today." Gregory smiled, "Don't worry, we can discuss this case if it makes you feel better."

"Oh. Right." There was a hint of embarrassment, but only because Miles realized he forgot about that promise. _Then again, we did have breakfast together . . . No, I'm not going to say anything._

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 1:53 PM

Miles offered to clean since his father had been doing the bulk of the cooking lately. It was just as well, since the office phone rang conveniently as they wrapped up. Gregory answered the call in the other room and Miles thought about his reflections from earlier.

_The murder must have happened between 5:50 PM and . . . 6:20 PM. The news covered it rather quickly in that case, but the press has been like that recently._

Miles turned on his computer once he finished the dishes and overheard Gregory's phone call.

"Thank you for reconsidering."

A pause. Miles signed in and opened up a web browser to search for when the first article on the murder case had been reported. He filtered the results by timestamp and saw the earliest was _6:26 PM. _Then it aired on the radio for his father, Ray, and Larry to hear.

"We will be by soon. Thanks." Gregory ended the call.

Assuming whoever committed the murder came from Bluecorp, Miles' estimation fell in line with his theory. As far as Frost's defense went, however, that timeline may not even matter.

_I am more concerned about proving Phoenix innocent. What she said earlier was the truth._

"Miles." Gregory said. "We are going to visit Miss Frost again."

"That was her on the phone?"

"Yes. She said she was willing to talk."

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 2:17 PM

Miles and Gregory both sat down and waited for Frost to be escorted in. After Ruby settled in, Gregory showed her, "This article from 2015 is how I recognized your name. Let me ask you, do you sincerely believe that White of Bluecorp had a hand in both Fiona and Ursula's deaths?"

". . .Hm. Perhaps I was mistaken." She brushed her hair to the side, "Maybe you aren't such an irredeemable, vile person after all. . . . Yes. I do believe that it was White both times."

"What makes you so certain?" Gregory asked.

"Because Wright told me." She answered.

"Wright?" Miles asked, "What did he tell you?"

"You perk up at his mention, you know that Lil Red? He called to let me know he'd been had and that the apartments were no longer safe."

"When did this call occur?" Gregory asked.

"Hmm. They have my phone, but I wanna say it was 5:40 he called." She answered. "Wright thought that White would pay a visit and told me to vacate. White must've done what he set to do and ran."

Gregory asked, "You knew about White potentially visiting. Why didn't you two leave?"

"I can't really say. I knew it was around 6:20 when I finally got there. My best guess is he killed her at 6:10 or 6:15."

Miles narrowed his eyes. He felt his usual discernment cutting through and he asked, "The call came in at 5:40 but the murder didn't happen until 6:15. You had a fair amount of time to leave. If that wasn't enough, you just said that _you were on your way to_ the apartment after receiving that call. Why?"

"Easy, Miles." Gregory warned, trying to reign in Miles's intensity.

"I wasn't there when I got that call. I could not get a hold of Fiona afterwards. I went to check in on her but when I arrived, I saw that White already fled and that she was dead. The cops came in after that and the press shortly after that." Fiona shook her head, "Vultures."

_It does confirm my timeline. I didn't even have to bring it up._

"Miss Frost," Miles dropped his attitude, "Can you say with certainty that Wright was not at the apartments during this time?"

". . . Yes. I told him the apartment was clear, so he had no reason to go to it."

"Why would you do that if you and your sister were still in trouble?" Gregory asked.

"I don't need rescued. I was out on a job. But . . . I wasn't sure what Fiona was doing and couldn't get a hold of her. I left as soon as I realized she was in danger. It didn't matter, though. I was too late in the end."

"If you called the police or told Phoenix the truth," Miles began to argue, but she shook her head.

"There's nothing either could do. The police would protect White 'til the bitter end and Wright would have been too late, too. He'd be in this box with me, actually."

"Ah." Miles conceded. _If she was caught, that left Phoenix to bail her out. . . is that what she thought?_

"I don't care 'bout being rescued, Red. I care about him exposing White for the blackmailin', murderin' fraud that he is." Frost corrected Miles before he could speak. "I was mad earlier. Losing another sister is just more than I want to deal with and bein' blamed for it just makes me wanna scream. But . . . I think you two might be my last hope to gettin' the truth out."

"Us? Not Phoenix?" Miles questioned.

". . . I'm not sure what he'll do now, though he probably wouldn't be taken seriously. That, and he's a suspect by default. It's not like we can talk since he's trying to float through this. I haven't heard from him, obviously, since he warned me 'bout White."

"You said that 'he'd been had' earlier." Gregory nodded, "Can you describe that in more detail?"

"No. I don't really know. We just made it a point to communicate dangers to one another. He called, didn't supply a why, and I listened. That apartment wasn't safe was all I needed to know."

"What is your relationship to Wright? We are both still confused about that." Gregory asked.

"When I first met him, he was diggin' 'round Bluecorp for some reason. When we both realized the other was doing the same, we made a 'mutual pact' of sorts. He helped me, I helped him. Purely business, nothing more."

"You met him while he was searching Bluecorp?" Miles asked. "Why was he there in the first place?"

"Hmm. Dunno. Never really cared to ask."

"Really?" Miles felt himself tense, "You were doing illegal activities with a man that you barely knew and never bothered to ask for his reasons?"

"Illegal? I am a PI who's hellbent on damning that motherfucker. Nothing I do is 'illegal'. It's closer to justice than the pigs down at the station and high prosecutor's offices."

"That is a lot of venom, Miss Frost." Gregory said.

"They're useless. All of them. They even ate their own for the alter to White."

"You are talking about the rookie detective." Gregory looked him up through the article.

Ruby said, "The only detective who wasn't willing to cover for White got bit in the end. Truly. The justice system is a fraud."

Both the Edgeworths had to ignore her sentiment. "And that is why you turned to Phoenix for help? Regardless of knowing nothing about his background?" Gregory asked.

"Pops, I straight up thought the dude was a con artist at first. He talked fast and friendly, I thought he was sellin' some bogy. But after I saw the proof of what he was after, 'why' didn't matter. He was capable. Trustworthy. I weaponized that for my own benefit. If he noticed, he didn't care. If he didn't notice, he wasn't cut out for this."

"You found him trustworthy?" Gregory asked.

"I thought he was chasin' me and trying to impress. Turns out . . . he just actually cared about gettin' justice for White's victims. I suppose if you were lookin' for a 'why' he got involved with this, you'd start there."

"Vigilante justice is still illegal," Gregory said, "I will look into those offenses as well. Another lawyer under me, Raymond Shields, is better at handling those claims. We will do our part to negate these offenses to minimal severity, Miss Frost."

"Well, that's good and all. But I just mainly want White to be locked up."

"We are not prosecutors." Gregory corrected.

"Wright said that defense lawyers can flip the script and force the judge to recognize another as the guilty person if evidence lines up with it."

"He said that?" Miles was taken aback. Technically, it was true. It should not happen often; however, in most of the cases Miles picked up, it happened rather frequently.

"Yeah. I think it was his backup plan if he got caught. While I was thinkin' about it, he also said 'never trust a state appointed attorney' to do their job correctly. So I called you. Pah. He seemed to know a lot about law, to be honest."

_Does he, now? Interesting. _"If he had no interest in trusting a state appointed attorney, who would he have turned to?" Miles asked.

"I asked him about that after meetin' you that first time. After I annoyed it out of him, he did admit to hirin' the two of you in that scenario. This scenario, I guess."

"That's presumptuous . . ." Miles folded his arms.

"And looks who's leaping to his defense before actually talking to him! Seems like he knew who to manipulate."

Miles said nothing. Instead of engaging her ridiculous and ineffectual point, he thought about how much she would know about Phoenix. Where would he go after the apartment failed him? He then looked at the guard pretending not to listen in, standing at the door.

_Even if I asked, it's not like she could just tell me. That officer would inform the others and Phoenix would be arrested before I had the chance to find him._

"I have submitted that request. A copy should be given to you on your way out . . ." Ruby said, "Now, don't waste any more time here – the trial does start tomorrow, I learned that a bit ago. Find what you need to sink that son of a bitch."

Miles didn't have to be told twice; something about learning that Phoenix would have come to him if he could elated him. He halfheartedly excused himself while Gregory gave a proper farewell, and the pair wrapped up at the detention center, then moved on to the crime scene.

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 3:37 PM

Traffic was pretty backed up and Miles grumbled about it, but they eventually made it to those apartments once more. This place looked like a murder happened here once a week, though Miles didn't express those thoughts. It wouldn't serve any purpose, anyway.

"Hold it, pals!" A large man with a large green trench coat and scruffy facial hair stopped them. "You can't come on unless you live here or have permission to enter."

_This detective looks familiar. Hmm._

"OH! Wait, it's you two!" He said in a booming voice, evidently recognizing them as well. "Hey, how's it been?"

"Do I know you?" Miles asked. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite visualize the context.

"You remember don't you!?" The detective pulled off a sad and pathetic face, it was almost endearing. "You defended me several years back!"

_A past client. Oh. I think I remember now._

". . . Yes. I see it now. You were the detective that was accused of double homicide in the defendant lobby. Detective . . ." _What was his name? _

"Gumshoe, sir! Detective Dick Gumshoe, at your service! What do you guys need?"

Gregory still had not recalled it, but nodded along, "Oh. Sure. Detective, we are here to investigate the crime scene on behalf of the accused."

"Really? Uh . . . I mean, you guys helped me in the past and all, but I'm really not supposed to let you in on our secrets. Especially because that witness was really chatty. Uhh! I mean, there are no witnesses!"

_Oh, goodness. This one is very loose lipped. I wonder if I can politely twist it out of him?_

"Do not worry, Detective. We can manage on our own . . . I see that you are keeping a lookout for residents only. Tell me. Are most of them home?" Miles asked.

"Oh. Yeah, mostly. We're keeping a close eye on the ones especially on the third floor. Uuh. Not for any real reason in particular, no."

"Thank you, Detective. If you will excuse us."

Miles and Gregory climbed up the familiar steps while putting on rubber gloves in preparedness. Gregory finally asked, "Who was that? I cannot recall."

"A few years ago, there was a double homicide at the courthouse. Remember that girl, Kay?"

"Kay? Okay? Okay what?"

"No. Her name was 'Kay'. Just 'Kay'. Her father was a prosecutor and one of the victims."

"Oh, that's right. Faraday and the . . . defendant, whose name I cannot recall, either."

"That's all right. It isn't important. That detective was the one we defended." Miles reminded him.

Gregory finally remembered it, details shaky, but still there nonetheless. "Yes. What a day that was."

Though it took some frustrations and time, Miles and Gregory could finally search the crime scene. The day ticked away, so they began their examination immediately. The murder happened right in the main part, indicated by a white outline in front of the work desk.

Beside the taped outline of the body was another outline. "Murder weapon?" Miles asked.

"More than likely. It must be out with forensics already."

Miles eyes went to the table and examined it. "The rod is gone. It was about the same length as that tape."

"Ah. So, the metal rod was the murder weapon, then."

"Hmm." Miles mentally noted the information. "We might be able to squeeze more information from that detective . . ."

Gregory sighed and shook his head. After a brief pause, he said, "I think that the prosecution and detectives must have sent most of the crime scene details to be examined more thoroughly at this point. Let us stay here a moment and learn what we can, first."

"Understood. The front door is busted. Whoever murdered Fiona did not have a key. Wouldn't that automatically disqualify Ruby as a suspect?"

"Perhaps. There is a chain deadbolt, so perhaps not. I see pieces of it on the floor."

". . .Noted."

_Even with the key, forced entry was necessary._

"I do not think that the perpetrator had a lot of time to do much more. But we can search the other rooms, if you would like." Gregory said.

"We should, since we are here."

"You can check the bathroom and I will look at the bedroom. Ruby's equipment should be at the precinct, but I wonder if Fiona's is still here." Gregory said. Miles followed the instructions and went to the deadbolted bathroom. It, too, was busted open.

_Ah. This one was not a chain bolt so Ruby would have had no reason to bust this one in._

Miles went inside the bathroom and found what he expected – darkroom equipment. What he did not find, however, were photographs or film – so they must have been stolen or taken by police . . . he turned to leave but happened to see one roll that fell on the floor.

It was labeled 'PW/GV'. An odd label, but perhaps it was one of Ruby's cases?

"A busted bathroom door seems more believable. Fiona's equipment is not here, either. Whether or not the police have it or someone stole it is debatable." Gregory answered once Miles told him what he found. "PW/GV. I wonder what that means."

"I am not sure." Miles said, "I suppose since the police overlooked it, we should just keep this bit to ourselves. It's a shame we can't develop it, though." _Time restraints and manipulation of evidence._

"If Phoenix reaches out to us, he might be able to explain it. Ah. PW are his initials. Maybe that roll belongs to him."

"Phoenix Wright / GV. Any thoughts on what GV stands for?" Miles asked.

"I doubt it stands for gravity velocity, which is about all I can come up with. Hm. If it's a client of his, then perhaps it stands for 'Phoenix Wright' as the film owner, and GV as his client's initials. It's an easy way of remembering which client belongs to which PI. I assume that is what Phoenix is, since Frost mentioned herself as one."

_PI. Private Investigators. That's possible. A client-based profession that would utilize camera shots and darkrooms like this. _"Very plausible. That would explain a lot of Phoenix's shadier movements." Miles agreed.

"Well, let us see if we can't ask the witnesses what they might have seen or heard." Gregory said. As they stepped out of the apartment, they found a man in a very shiny, purple tunic over white dhoti facing an older man in a large pink sweater.

"The purple diamonds! I saw him! He ran and ran and ran once that poor girl screamed. Purple suite of diamonds." The man in the pink sweater rambled.

"Sir. You are causing a disturbance." The man in the Hindu clothes was very much of the same background. His brown hair was neatly braided down his back. He was clean shaven and stern looking; his voice carried that same tone. "Please return to your boarding."

"Purple suite. Diamonds." He gibbered to himself and the Hindu man noticed the Edgeworths once the unstable older man went back to his apartment.

"And who let you bunch in?" The man asked. Miles already despised this person.

Gregory answered. "I am sorry, we did not see you before. Are you one of the detectives?"

"No. I am the prosecutor. And you are?"

_Ah. So, this is who we will be facing tomorrow._

"The defense for Frost." Gregory said, sensing standoffish behavior.

". . .Aruna Purohit."

"Gregory Edgeworth."

Miles didn't feel like it, but he gave his name as well. Aruna left without another word and a detective stood out front of where the mumbling man from before went.

"Hmm. A purple 'suit' of diamonds. That sounds awfully familiar, don't you think?" Gregory said.

"Sounds like someone saw White. Not a deck of cards." Miles concurred.

"I am willing to bet that Mr. Purohit will not be calling that witness to testify. But we might need him to, if we want to place White here."

"Ah. What a mess!" An different older man said as he climbed the stairs. The detective stopped him, but the man just yelled, "I'm the landlord! I have a right to know what's going on with my properties."

"Ah. The landlord. That might be promising." Gregory said. "Excuse me, sir. Can I trouble you a moment?"

"Hm? What do you want?" He was graying and wore rugged attire.

"Are you able to tell us about the people living in 3C?"

"Oh. The guy isn't here all that much, but half the damn underworld is. Those sisters fought all week, from the complaints I've gotten. I left them a noise complaint on Wednesday and haven't heard a peep since."

"The sisters were arguing? Do you know why?" Miles asked.

"Don't know, don't care. Look, this area isn't the greatest. I try to keep it clean, but things happen. Besides, that Wright fella paid the entire year upfront. Now. I am not supposed to allow that . . . but damn. That's 9-grand upfront. Kid's got cash. Where that cash comes from, I don't know."

"Did you say 9-grand? As in 9,000 dollars?" Miles was stunned by this information. Sure, with the right budgeting and career, cash like that could be dropped willy-nilly. _But according to Wright's employment that should be impossible for him._

"Were the sisters on the lease?" Gregory asked.

"If he wants to keep those sisters on his property, who am I to argue with the green bills he gave me?"

". . . Is that a no?" Miles asked, wanting the answer in plain English.

"No. Those sisters weren't on it. I knew of the one for months, but damn, he got two? He's like, a hero."

Miles sighed. _More sex starved morons. Larry was greatly disappointed when Phoenix said their relationship was a 'partnership' and nothing more. Ruby said the same thing when we visited. Should I ruin this guy's day with that same information?_

"You only knew of the one?" Miles asked, deciding against that last inclination. "Can you elaborate on that?"

"I seen her come and go all the time, but the other one was new to me. When I dropped the complaint request to quiet down, I saw both sisters. One I seen all the time – unless they just look that much alike, I don't really know. No. No. The one I don't see often looks different. I think she's the one who – you know. Anyway, I can't believe the fella or the sister would kill that girl."

"What were the sisters doing?" Miles asked.

"Just talking and smoking on the balcony. They were too pretty for me to get my words out, so I just slipped it under their door later when they weren't there."

"Did you hear what about?"

"Too busy looking at their – uh – faces to bother listening."

"Thank you for the information, sir." Gregory said. "I have another question about the man who lives in 3D. The one that officer is blocking off."

"Ah. That's . . . uh, Yogi. Poor man got his brains all scrambled up but I don't know much about him, other than lives with his wife and owns a fishing boat business out on Gordy Lake or whatever."

"Yogi? That name sounds familiar. No. It must be a coincidence." Gregory said to himself. "Have any of the residence said anything else about what happened?"

"Polly Yogi called the police then the office after she heard a scream. Yogi, the one you just saw, keeps yammering about a purple suite of cards. Who knows what that's supposed to mean."

"What time did you receive the call?"

"I've been asked that so many times today, it's ridiculous. But 6:15."

"Thank you. Do you know if Polly is home?" Gregory asked.

"I think I saw her ride along with an officer earlier."

"Again, thank you for the information." Gregory smiled. Miles and Gregory left and once they were alone on the stairs, Gregory said, "Polly is the witness they will call forward. They may be telling her to disregard what her husband saw and rely on the fact that the sisters were arguing to base their argument against Frost."

"None of them seem like they have any ill will toward Ruby or Phoenix. Just misinformation." Miles stated. They saw Gumshoe again and Miles asked, "Detective. Are you able to part with some information? It would be very beneficial to our case."

"Well . . . I am grateful to you, sirs. I just don't know if I can . . ." Gumshoe scratched the back of his head, "Argh. I'm not gonna say no . . . but I might not be able to say much."

Gregory asked this time, "Are you able to share the autopsy details? We are late to observing the body or the murder weapon."

"Yeah, forensics took both away a bit ago. Uh. From memory, the pole was used to bash in the back of her neck and there was a trace of blood from the pressure on the weapon. They wanted to inspect it closer. We should know the specifics by tomorrow . . ."

"You do not have the autopsy results back yet?" Miles asked, "I would have thought such a thing would be done quickly."

"Well, uh, the thing is, sirs, is that Mr. Purohit already yelled at me for lettin' you in. I mentioned that I gave the report out to another detective who was curious and he didn't like that, either. There's a few copies available but I don't want to get in trouble again."

". . . Understandable." Gregory navigated, then asked, "Can you state the estimated time of death?"

"Mmmm. Oh. Uhhh. Yes! The first call to the police came in at 6:13 PM yesterday. Everyone here heard a scream then the witness said he saw a strange man running down the steps – AH! Disregard that last part!"

_I want this detective to be on all of our cases. This is way too convenient. _"Thank you, Detective Gumshoe." Miles smiled in earnest. Sometimes Miles even appreciated when the answers came freely. It was welcomed after all this tooth pulling just for a taste of the truth.

"I guess I'll see the both of you tomorrow, sirs." Gumshoe pouted again. Maybe he feared the backlash of talking with the Edgeworths. Regardless, they decided to call it at the crime scene and return to the offices.

#

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 5:09 PM

"That took a chunk of our time," Gregory said as he checked the office clock, "But I think we at least have some groundwork for tomorrow."

"Hey guys." Larry said and Missile wagged his tail on the couch beside him. "So. Jules took a train to her family. I dunno what's up with her today, but she seemed worried."

"If you actually allowed me talk to her, I might have figured out why. I believe she saw more yesterday than she wanted to talk about." Miles rebutted.

". . . Yeah. Sorry." Larry returned to the television, officially ending that topic. Missile greeted him again, coming up to Miles and sitting in front of him.

"Hey, Missile." Miles saw a note sticking out from his collar and read it. There was a business card within the note that read, 'Sorry I couldn't help earlier. Maybe this can. – J.'

The business card was an address and phone number for Gervais Verrier. That was a name somewhat familiar to him and it took a moment for it to click. He was one of the ones who agreed to sign Larry out without any repercussions. Gervais Verrier. GV. PW/GV.

Miles thought of that film roll. Could that be a coincidence? Phoenix Wright, Gervais Verrier, Julia (whatever her last name was), and Bluecorp. He discussed this with his Father and they called both numbers listed, to no avail. Miles ultimately headed out to make a house visit.

"Take Missile with you and call me if you run into any problems. I do not know what Mr. Verrier has in store for you, but since he works for Bluecorp, be very careful with your wording." Gregory lectured. "If you see White there at all you get out as soon as possible. Do not engage that man."

"Yes, Father. Are you sure you are okay with me doing this alone?" Miles asked.

"You are at the stage where you don't need my constant watch. I can't see why White would target you at this point in our investigation, but keep an eye on your surroundings at all time and be very cautious. I will learn from Ray if he has anything new."

"Okay. If you are sure." Miles hesitantly left the office, but once he and Missile were outside, his determination amazed him. He set his GPS for the home address listed and drove.

Notes:

Some familiar faces show up / are mentioned. The defending Gumshoe is a variant of an investigations 1 case. Where it happens with Gregory and Miles, instead of Miles and Franziska. Still trying to figure out how to fit in the Von Karmas.

Needed a prosecutor so I invented one (partially used a randomizer to come up with traits). Experimenting with different backgrounds.

And like last chapter, please ask if anything is confusing. Trying not to information overload but also pick up the pace. I wanted to get to the chapter after this soon :)


	13. Haunted House - French Edition

Summary:

A lot of spooks await Miles at the Verrier household. Investigation part 3 - nearly completed

Notes:

A longer chapter and a lot of scenery / description. Potentially a more involved read :)

Haunted House – French Edition

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 5:52 PM

The sun just set as he navigated the neighborhood. Miles felt creeping darkness that in his being, but ignored that crippling sensation. He pulled up to the Verrier house, parking on the side since there was not a driveway, with Missile in case he would be approached by someone suspicious. That being said, Verrier's house alone alerted Miles to apprehension on appearance alone. In retrospect, he wished he arrived sooner with the sun to accompany him.

Sometimes, people put up Christmas directions at the end of October and completely bypass Thanksgiving, giving that specific holiday themed on gratitude little to no consideration. Verrier did this . . . only with the gory and tasteless holiday – if it could even be considered a holiday – Halloween. His lawn was littered with paraphernalia to a sickening level. Giant mascot figurines completed the assorted décor.

A bright ghost in the fake tombstone garden at the front of the lawn layered both sides of the cobblestone walkway. There were three rows of the plastic stones and that white, glowing ghost sat in the middle of the rows to the right. Behind the right tombstone garden was a tarped over fort.

Multiple zombies dragged themselves through the trees to his left just above the graveyard, near what looked like a manmade mud bath. Miles wondered if the entire point of the 'spa' was atmospheric to zombies dredging through the sludge?

A plump witch, with green skin and a black pointed hat, stirred a cauldron with manufactured mist raising from the black pot, just before the steps up the porch. And Count Dracula stood at menacingly watch by the front entrance with his classic pose of the cape hiding his fangs. Bats hung from the porch archway.

"It's barely August," Miles whispered as he shook his head. Halloween always seemed like a silly and pointless little thing people blew out of proportion. He then walked the path to the house once his eyes found their way front again. He had a hard time keeping them from rolling into orbit he was that unamused. Missile sniffed at the ground and kept close to Miles with his tail tucked down – even he was wary of these surroundings.

Behind the tacky adorning, the house was multi-level but narrow – still a decent size for a single person, and likely quite expensive. A modest house would be in the 3xx,xxx dollar range. Like the front, the enclosed backyard was plenty spacious, and he could barely see a balcony obscured by the high-rise fence. _A yard like that would be great for Missile._

They passed the first attraction: the fake graveyard on either side of the cobblestone walkway. Miles subsequently felt his foot press on something that sank down. A sudden noise like shifting wind and a dense fog covered the yard from both directions, causing Missile to growl. The ghost figurine flickered, drawing Miles' attention to it. Disembodied voices wailing around him sent a chill down his spine, but Miles figured out the trick behind the absurdity and composed himself quickly. He stepped on a metal plate rigged to launch a fog machine, lighting changes, and speakers all at once.

_Juvenile at best. _

Miles picked up the tile plating, colored in tarnished yellow to blend in, and found it connected to power lines hidden in the grass. Miles reset the plate which disabled the event, causing the ghost light back to its original pale shine, the fog to dissipate, and the sound effects to hush.

He moved on to the second scene, the zombies. Miles watched his footing in case he tripped something that would cause the zombies to stir. Not that it would scare him off or anything, Miles just did not want to deal with the puppet undead.

There were three trees in a triangle to his left, housing the zombie family. To the right of him was that fort draped in a tarp. Perhaps it was still under construction? It was also built beside old, tall, and thick preexisting trees. Missile wanted to explore it more thoroughly and trotted into the yard unsupervised, though Miles just let him do his own examination.

The mud bath filled a not even remotely perfect circle centered in the trees. One zombie was just out of view of the furthest tree back – Miles could only see a 'bloodied' hand and half of its unblinking face. A different one was half sunk in the mud, appearing to be pulling himself out of the muck. It faced a light post beside the main path just up ahead. Two were 'walking' the perimeter of the mud. And the last was very close to the path with its arms outstretched, which made Miles a tad skeptical.

Motion activated statues were very common among the Halloween enthusiasts, as he recalled. Miles mentally prepared himself for it to move or moan. As he passed it, however, it stayed dolefully unanimated. Keeping an eye on that, Miles completely missed a thin woven spiderweb replica that spiraled from the nearest tree's overhanging branch that latched diagonally to that light post. He ran into the threading and felt something in the post click.

Instinctively, Miles backed away from the webbing to visualize his obstacle. He heard the statue behind him rotate and knew that he triggered whatever this 'Verrier' set up; no doubt for his own amusement. Missile barked at the sudden movement, clearly easily fooled by these contraptions. He returned to Miles side and protected him from the perceived threat.

"It's okay." Miles tapped the aggravated dog's head and then looked at the zombies out of curiosity at this point. The one nearest to him spun only its upper body toward Miles, which must have really drawn Missile to his side. The zombie jutted back and forth to give an illusion of lunging towards whomever tripped the mechanism.

The mud bath began to bubble rapidly, and the popping of the thick mud was audible. Looking at the zombie in the bath, Miles saw a red light glowing from the eyes. The muck zombie also shook, but side to side instead.

. . . So that explained how _this _trick was done. The zombie in the bath was not just décor; it actively hid the jets which created the bubbles. The switch that turned on the jets must also be source to the animation of the zombie nearest to Miles.

"GRRREeeeah AARRRrrggghhhh!" A garbling grunting came from the zombies at around the earthen pond. Then the one next to him let out a very loud and very hungry sounding groan. Miles simply rolled his eyes and examined the light post. He found the switch (which was pulled by the 'web' string when someone ran into it) and turned it all off.

_There must be electric lines running under the ground. Did Verrier truly install a mud bath, jets, and an electric current just for a crass stunt?_

The webbing was about four feet from the ground – so only small children could pass through without setting off the zombies. The threading used was strong and slim, but not enough to cut anyone. It also blended into the background, so it was near invisible at night.

_Definitely should have visited sooner._

Miles walked around the light post and returned to the walkway, though twice it was equipped to set off the statues and 'ambience' that came with it. As Miles neared the end of the journey, he wondered what the witch had in store for him.

The witch's arms moved in a circular motion around a pot that sprayed green mist upward. Expecting some sort of ruckus, Miles climbed up the steps and saw inside the cauldron . . . this one was quite simple. The pot's bottom was removed and fit around a preexisting fountain. The misting part was attached to the fountain and gently sprayed a dyed water for the effect. Most of the water ended up back into the fountain and was then recycled back into its tank.

_Is that all this witch will do? Is this one simply an aesthetically pleasing piece?_

She did nothing new even after Miles reached the top step. That left just one final hurdle to cross, the guardian of the front door – Count Dracula himself . . .

The vampire appeared much younger in his face with a surprising lack of creases. The vampire had a black vest and white sleeved shirt under a burgundy cape. The matte eyes were not a red like most films depicted, but instead a grey that matched his hair and skin. The bangs were parted at the center and had a sharp point to them before falling down his cheeks.

_Interesting design choice, though something about it seems familiar_. Miles stepped forward and Count Dracula dropped his arm and cape while loudly exclaiming, "I viilll suck your bluuddd! Ah hah hah!" in a very fake Germanic accent with an even more plastic sounding laugh. Apparently, the vampire had a white jabot hiding underneath the synthetic, mobile limb. Missile sniffed at the vampire and sneezed, then pranced to the door.

The witch then cackled suddenly, as if goading at the vampire's threat. She did nothing else, however, and the yard went silent.

"How foolish," Miles ignored the sprightly props and knocked on the door, which eerily creaked open. Missile welcomed himself to the home, but Miles hesitated. _What is going on with this residence? _

None of the overhead lights were on, but a desk lamp on an end table with a green light revealed a heavily decorated interior with more thematic Halloween ornamentation – a mummy in the living room, more webbing in the doorframes, pumpkins on the end tables, and so on. A greeting of 'Spirits Found Here' hung over the kitchen doorway.

"Mr. Verrier?" Miles called out. He swore his voice echoed back to him, but maybe Miles was imagining things at this point. _Maybe Verrier was murdered as well . . ._

With these annoying decorations, Miles could hardly blame anyone for desiring it – with the disclaimer of not condoning violence of any kind, of course. The prevailing question now was should Miles enter the house? He made it this far . . .

"Missile?" Miles yelled. He definitely heard his voice bounce back at him and wondered how that could be. He also worried about where Missile went, but luckily, he saw the dog poking his head out at the top of the stairs. With the door opening and seemingly inviting him in, Miles stepped foot inside and followed Missile up. "Where are we going?"

Each step on the staircase creaked loudly and the noise reverberated from upstairs, somehow, but Miles was definitely not imagining things. "Mr. Verrier?"

"Mr. Verrier?" His voice returned cleaner, coming from in the middle room on the upper level. _This residence has security cameras. Great. I am trespassing on tape again._

Missile pawed at the center door where each sound that they made repeated back to them. There was a witch hanging from just above it and Miles shook his head, "No. I don't think we should."

Missile whimpered and barked back in apparent disagreement to Miles.

". . . We are trespassing. I already found myself in this position once this week."

Missile barked a few more time and nudged the door. He really wanted inside. _I could erase those records of me being here, I suppose._

When Miles pushed on the knob, he realized that it was wedged. He needed to apply more force and the door screeched as it came out of the frame wrong. It required a repair, though Miles felt the door wanted to thrust back shut. He then thought it might not be the best idea to enter as he held the door from launching back to its default position, trying to figure out why it would in the first place.

Missile darted in the room, however, and Miles chased after him, slipping his hand above the handle. Ash his strength waned with his body stuck in the frame, he looked up and saw a tension support, found normally in screen doors, on the top of the door facing the hall. The floating witch prevented him from noticing it in the first place.

Miles moved his hand to reposition but stumbled into the bedroom due to imbalanced weight distribution. The door slammed behind him and he became exceedingly frustrated. If that wasn't strange (infuriating) enough, this side of the door had no handle. Almost as if it had been tampered with for the sole purpose of catching intruders.

_It's a 'haunted' house. Maybe the intent was just another prank._

Though he doubted that someone would prank a bedroom like this. Miles pulled on the empty doorknob holdings, but the tension from the top and the misfed jamming kept pressure against it. Without a knob (or something similar) for leverage and a door stopper, he was stuck in this room.

That did not stop Missile from sniffing around and barking excitedly. Directly across from the door was the sole window in this room that was left wide open. To the left of where Miles stood was a desk with a computer tower and monitor, and a laptop. Two full bookshelves were to either side.

Opposite of the desk was a king-sized bed, draped in blue everything except for a medium sized ghost plush, with a shelfed headboard for more books – also filled. A dresser to the left of it, and an end table and the closet existed to the right of the centered bed.

Miles checked out the open laptop and noticed immediately that there were several videos playing back in real time, both in and outside. _Yeah. I will be lucky if those trespassing charges miss me this time. _As he examined the laptop, Missile happily made himself at home on the person's bed and Miles just hoped that Verrier was an animal person.

He began to search for a prop to open the door so he could leave. He found the doorknob beside the computers and fit in into the slot. Then he brainstormed to think of a way to brace it open. Miles remembered vaguely seeing a balcony on this side of the house – as he poked his head out, though, he saw that it was about a two-foot drop to a fire escape that connected to all three outside facing windows. At worst, he would roll his ankle wrong on the landing.

_At least there IS a way out of this buffoonery. _

He looked at the live feed again. Another car pulled in behind Miles' bright red car; perhaps Verrier came home? He watched to see who would step out of the purple car and felt unabashed dread when he saw White exit the car. Miles could not make it out, but he held something in his hand.

The homicidal maniac casually walked up to Miles' windshield and threw the object, smashing it completely. "Oh, you son of a –" Miles began to curse and heard his car alarm wail. White then reached inside the open front to unlock the door and retrieved his object.

_Someone will probably call the police. _Miles thought.

"I will do what those dumb bitches can't." Miles heard clearly from the laptop. He studied the cameras positionings for a second, realizing exactly where they were placed – the plastic statues' eyes. it was more than just a juvenile prank: it was an elaborate way to monitor for threats . . .

_But, why would Verrier feel the need to set this up? _Regardless, Miles had to retreat.

Noises. Fog machine. The horrific moaning and then the laughter from the witch and the vampire – these were indicators for how far a person progressed on this property. That also meant as soon as the witch cackled, leaving through the door would not matter – actually, it would not now. He would cross White's path and that could not be a good thing. They would have to leave through the fire escape.

The ghostly wail of the first indicator went off – White was at the 'graveyard'.

"What was that?" White growled through the static. Miles decided to just leave the equipment alone and called Missile to the fire escape. It was the safest course of action. Missile came but paused when they both heard someone attempting to open the door.

Missile growled and Miles studied the feed again. White was still outside, so who could possibly be at the door? Whoever it was freed the door from the jamb and disabled the tension, completely opening the door.

Missile went up to the person, a man, in a navy-blue coat with a tacky and cheap blue suit underneath. He sniffed at the man, recognizing the scent, and immediately dropped his aggression. The man knelt down and pet Missile. He had spikey black hair, and while Miles couldn't say for certain, he thought it might be Phoenix.

Missile returned to Miles side, who had found himself at a loss for words. White tripped the webbing and the zombie rotated its body; and with it, the camera. "STUPID FUCKING! ARGH!" White yelled and swatted at the webbing.

"Hah!" The man with spikey hair laughed and reapplied the tension rod, let the door shut hard as he stepped out of its lunge path, and then slammed into it himself for good measure. He walked over to the laptop and watched it in amusement. "Hey, Miles." He said casually, like they weren't being intruded by a madman with a weapon.

"'Hey, Miles'? Really? Is that the best you can do?"

Phoenix(?) hummed to himself, ignoring Miles, as he collected the ghost off the bed and retrieved a laptop bag. Hunched over the laptop, he began to save the feed and said, "Would you rather I fanfare?"

"Well, no. What are you doing?" Miles asked.

"What does it look like? I'm saving my data and then we're leaving."

"Phoenix." Miles said and the other turned his head.

"Yes?" He asked.

"We are leaving? Us both?" _So, it is . . . Phoenix. _Miles took in what he saw this time – the full hair that had not changed since they were kids and all the facial details: wide eyes, a surprisingly structured jaw and a muscular neck, and eyebrows that were tweaked to look a certain way. He was there, in front of Miles, and he could not think of a single thing to say.

"Well, yeah?" Phoenix said, "I'm not getting my skull bashed in by Blanco Nino over there. And I'd rather him not harm you, while we're at it."

"Blanco Nino?"

"White's nickname. Oddly fitting." The files were taking a long time to save, and Phoenix commented on it, "Urgh. Hurry up you slooow piece of work."

"Do you need to take that with you?" Miles asked, though he knew that laptop contained at least the last ten minutes worth of evidence, so the answer was likely . . .

"Duh. How else will you prove to your insurance who smashed your window in? Besides, I have a lot of crap on this dinosaur."

"My insurance? . . . Oh." Miles felt information overload hit like a truck, and somehow forgot that his car was damaged. "Yes. I will love to sue him for that."

"I would. When you're caught 'red' handed on tape, it's really hard to argue you're way out of that one. Truly, it is a black and 'white' situation."

"Stop it. Please. I cannot handle poor puns right now." Miles closed his eyes and listened. "Is he in the house yet?"

"I didn't hear the –"

A muffled voice laughed stalely, 'Ah hah hah!'. Then the witch cackled.

"Okay, yeah, he's likely in the house now." Phoenix answered as if Miles had no hearing of his own.

"Yes. I gathered. Thank you."

"You asked. Don't give me that look! Oh, yes! Done. Shutting her down now." Phoenix closed the laptop and wrapped the power cable around it, but Miles noticed a cast on his left wrist and hand, which made the actions Phoenix took slightly longer to accomplish.

"Do you need help?" Miles opened the laptop bag and Phoenix then slid the laptop in. It was Miles who then strapped the bag over his shoulder and asked, "What happened to your hand?"

"Later. Jump out the window." Phoenix said in return.

". . . Alright. I expect a full explanation –"loud footsteps trampled up the stairs, breaking Miles' thought process.

"Shall I give you the full hours-long version right this moment or would you prefer to escape while we're both fairly intact?"

Miles glared at Phoenix in response but could not pick apart his case.

Out the window." Phoenix whispered, "Now. Don't argue." He grabbed the ghost plush from the computer chair.

"Is that thing really necessary?"

"Don't. Argue." Phoenix said, "You first." White began to shake the door, which was their cue to leave. They jumped down one at a time. The yard and fire escape were both lit well, so navigating would not be a problem.

The fire escape landing connected to all outside facing windows, but the stairs did not extend fully to the bottom. That was probably to deter thieves from breaking in; however, there was an additional ladder, one that probably originally belonged to that pool in the center of the yard, had more stair-like steps than narrow ladderlike ones. It was attached to the landing, so they thankfully would not have to jump to the ground. A two-foot drop was much different than an eight-foot freefall.

Phoenix, true to his word, was only slightly behind. Missile hobbled behind, able to maneuver the steps just barely, while Miles assisted the dog. Phoenix dropped the plush, it bounced off the first stepped and overshot the next several, before bouncing once more and landing on the ground. Phoenix unhinged the ladder from the landing, then carefully descended so the ladder would not slide around.

Miles watched him, hoping that it would not shift either. He considered that, without the ladder, it would be possible to climb up to the fire escape landing. Miles could reach the lower landing if he wanted to (with a stepstool or something for height leverage), but pulling oneself back up would be the challenging part. Then he noticed a rope ladder tucked underneath, secured by a small open unit under the base.

"I hate heights." Phoenix grumbled. He pulled the ladder away and started to turn it upside down but had a hard time doing so with his damaged hand.

"What are you doing?" Miles asked, feeling his eyes narrow.

"Well, White will have to jump to follow. If I flip this so the underside is up, White would be jumping into a very nasty neck bruising."

Miles disagreed wholeheartedly with this plan. "Phoenix. Enough. Just slide it out of his use and let us go. I understand having it so White cannot use it, but I will not allow you to purposefully harm him."

"Fine. You're morally, ethically, and legally right, anyway. It's annoying. Hopefully he breaks an ankle or both on the way down." Miles ignored Phoenix's last remark and helped him move the ladder, since Phoenix struggled to with only one viable hand – Phoenix himself looked put-off by it but said nothing. Once cleared, Phoenix picked up a metal rod resting against the fire escape support and slipped it into a belt loop. It was very similar to the murder weapon found at the apartment.

"The fence is the only way robbers do not attempt to steal from this place on the routine, correct?" Miles asked, pretending not to notice the connection. Yet.

"A dog would be a better deterrent." Phoenix eyed Missile who gently snatched the plush in his mouth. "You want to hold onto that for me? You're such a good boy."

"He recognized you immediately." Miles observed.

"That's a bit surprising, but he always was smart." Phoenix looked up to see if White busted through the door and subsequently to the fire escape, then remembered he was talking about it. "The person who added the fire escape completely believed the world would end in 2012, very apocalyptically. There's a bunker in the basement and a way in through the yard."

"Is this your idea of a joke?" Miles said, then admired the yard space. Plenty of room to improve. A pool and what looked like a sauna and a hot tub took up some of the estate, but Missile would have a good time in a yard like this. Whoever Verrier was kept his foolish side front and his polished one in the rear. That was some fundamental backwards logic.

"No. I'm one hundred percent serious about the bunker. Adds some charm to this house, don't you think?"

"You . . . are insane." Miles replied, unable to describe it as anything else, and Phoenix just laughed again. They heard police sirens in the background. _Verrier and Wright . . . _"I have a question about you and Verrier."

"Save it for later."

"Is he home?"

"Hah! Oh. Wait. You're serious? . . . Hmm." Phoenix put his hand up to his chin. "No. Later. The only one left in the house is White. Does that clear it up for you?"

_Not at all. _Miles just decided to escape and sort those details later, but he then realized he had no idea where the gate for the fence was.

Phoenix pointed to around the back, seemingly reading his mind. "This way." And took Miles' hand to lead. Instead of arguing about it, Miles just let it happen – he had no intention of letting Phoenix escape him again.

As they rounded the corner, they both heard a noise above them and locked eyes with White. The man held very clearly in his hands a Thinker Statue. Miles recognized it instantly, "That clock? Why does he have it?"

"Oh. It's a clock. Huh." Phoenix said. "Never mind that for now. . ." Phoenix ran to a locked gate, locked by a lever. He had a hard time moving it, so Miles took over and slid it to the right. "Don't worry about securing it." Phoenix said as they hurried away.

Miles wanted to go to his car and faced that direction, but Phoenix had a different idea. "If White doesn't jump down, he'll likely return to the front yard. Your car is not our getaway."

"Then what are you suggesting?"

"The alleyway. I know a path that ends up in the downtown square. It's only a few blocks."

". . . Okay." What other choice did Miles have? Phoenix pulled out his phone as he led and watched a GPS tracker.

"That one is stationary. Oh wait. That one is for yours. Let me just . . . okay, here's White's car."

"Wait, did you say, 'that one is for mine?' You placed a tracker on _my car_?" Miles asked.

". . . About that."

If Miles wasn't out of breath from all this activity, he would have scolded Phoenix on the legalities on tampering with someone else's property. Phoenix stopped in his tracks and looked down the street they were on, from the direction they came.

"White did return to his car . . . he didn't take the leap, I guess."

"He can't possibly know where we are?" Miles inhaled heavily, though Phoenix seemed unaffected by the rush.

"The bike trails. He can't follow us with his car. Slight detour?"

Miles nodded. Phoenix pocketed his phone and took Miles by the hand again. Phoenix kept looking over his shoulder and then to his front. He was worried about outrunning a car; the same concern happened to cross Miles' mind multiple times.

The sirens were louder for a brief moment, then passed them by, unsuspecting of Miles and Phoenix. Between breaths, Miles asked, "Should we talk to them?"

"We're no safer putting our lives in their hands. Trust me on that."

"You're not one of those people who are blatantly against law enforcement, are you?"

"No, of course not but –" They both turned to the same sound of a car rolling into their narrow back alley street. Phoenix pulled Miles into a cubby between houses and their fences and Missile joined the two men. Phoenix took them to a spot that was not visible from the street, and they waited it out. Phoenix pulled up the phone and whispered, "It is him. Just stay quiet."

"If he steps out of his car you will not be able to track him, correct?" Miles whispered back.

"No. But I'll know he's on foot if his car idles too long. The road he's on comes to a dead-end soon. He'll either have to turn left or right to go down a parallel street or reach a roundabout. If he chooses the turnabout, he will have to drive back this way. Whatever he chooses, staying here is our only move." Phoenix handed Miles the phone so he could visually see the map layout.

The bike trails were beside the turnabout, but also parallel to the road Phoenix mentioned. There was not a road connecting to it, but looked like a sidewalk did. Phoenix knew this area well to have that route memorized and he was right – there were parallel backstreets, but he could only travel straight for so long. Along the fastest path to downtown would be patrolled by white. The bike trail ran into a bus line that intersected at a street of pubs.

As Phoenix said, the tracker showed the car turn at the dead-end and slowly approached their location. Miles handed Phoenix back the phone so he could know this information as well. "We have to get to the bike trail as soon as possible. He cannot follow by car." Phoenix reiterated. "And it looks like he has no intention of abandoning it, either."

Miles took in their current surroundings. At this rate, they were going to be caught if they did not come up with a sound strategy. "If he continues to circle through the neighborhood, we are going to be seen."

"I know. I'm thinking . . ." Phoenix and Miles huddled together over the screen. They had to account for headlights, too, and their shadows betraying them in the beams. "Not all houses have fences. We might have to zigzag through yards."

"But that's –"

"I know. Would you rather be right or dead? He's not going to give you a chance to plead your case, you know. Hold on to this. Keep an eye on what street he is on and we'll figure out a way to keep unseen."

White's car passed them and drove on by. The three of them stayed in the corner until Miles said, "He's turned to the right. He is coming up parallel."

"We need to slowly move forward. Once he reaches the next turn, we need to hide."

Miles said nothing and they ventured forward. White's car obviously moved at a faster rate than their sprinting speed, so they were up one house with no fence. "He's coming back this way."

"Cut through the yard. Don't." Phoenix raised a finger before Miles could express how uncomfortable trespassing _again _felt. "Just do it."

They were back on the street that Verrier's house faced after cutting through a straight path. Miles noticed the police cars parked out front, but none had patrolled further ahead. Not that Miles felt any reason to not approach the police or would fear them spotting the three of them. Phoenix, however, was a fugitive.

"We shoulda probably avoided this street. Act normal." Phoenix kept his eyes ahead as he walked. Miles wondered if there was more to that then he was being forthcoming about.

"Phoenix. Are you sure we are avoiding the police, not because of White, but because you are a suspect in a murder case?"

"If that's all this was, I'd have already let the system work itself out. White saw you and Missile. He saw your car. The minute he links all that back to you, you're in as much trouble as I am."

"You could have turned yourself in last night. Why didn't you?"

"Where is White now?" Phoenix asked, deliberately dodging the question. Miles checked the phone and felt his heart leap. "Ahead of us. He's about to turn on our street." _He must of went up and back already . . ._

"Okay." Phoenix stopped and inhaled. "How close is he to the turn?"

"Very close." Fear was the best description for what Miles felt. The officers were just a few houses down from them, but . . . _There is no way that White could murder them so close to police presence, could he? Surely the officers would prevent that._

"He's gotten away with it before. The police help him cover it up." Again, Phoenix answered as if he could read Miles' mind. He smiled, though, still calm. It was warm and pure and oddly comforting. "Run straight ahead. The next four houses are all open yards. We'll be going in the right direction this time."

"And . . . If I chose to go to the police?"

Phoenix sighed. "I am not leaving your side. It's your choice . . . but the police will be the wrong one."

They could see the headlights now taking the bend back their way. It was time to decide. Even as White approached, Phoenix did not move until Miles did. It was senseless, considering his situation, but Phoenix was serious.

Miles made his choice. He sprinted through the houses with Phoenix, who had taken custody of his hand again. He could barely feel his hands or his arms – all the blood drained in favor of his legs and heart – and it surged as they fled.

Hounds from the neighborhood set off, but Phoenix did not let up. A thought occurred as they went – Phoenix would have already made it had Miles not slowed him down. Phoenix could have abandoned him at the start but chose the path that would be most risky to him.

They made it to house number two before Phoenix stopped and asked about White. Miles brought it up with the hand not enclosed by Phoenix's and saw that they were furthest from him than they had since this began. Phoenix nodded.

"Let's head to the bike trails. We should be nearly done. Are you okay?"

Miles nodded, unable to speak. Phoenix didn't question it outright, but he did have a look on his face that said he more-or-less did not believe Miles. They made one last haul toward the edge of the street, only having to overcome the length of one more yard. They crossed the road to the sidewalk and descended into a slight decline to reach the trail. Trees blocked the trail partially and it split off into a wooded dirt path.

"We can stop running now," phoenix said with a shortness of breath, "Let's duck in the trees a minute and catch our breath." Phoenix suggested. Miles watched the GPS as they went into the cover. White continued to circle the neighborhood, unaware that they made it down to the trail.

"How did you know this would work?" Miles asked when he could manage to form a complete sentence.

"I've become somewhat of an expert at dodging people this week." Phoenix laughed, "I have some really nosy friends. That, and a stalker who really wants me dead."

"Stalker? White?"

Phoenix sighed. "We're still not exactly safe. I'd say we could take the wood trail, but with how dark it is, I don't think it's a good idea." A few people were walking toward them and to the pubs, and Phoenix said, "Perfect. Crowd blend. Do you have a leash for Missile?"

"I . . . left it in the car."

"Eh. Whatever. Missile's well behaved enough to not attack others. Unless it's warranted. Let's keep pace with them and blend in."

The group of people all admired Missile and Miles finally relaxed as they used the gathering. He still watched for White both on the GPS and by looking up at the sidewalk. He was at a loss for words still and could not have predicted any of what transpired, but he finally achieved his goal. And they were both fantastically in one piece.

As long as they were using these people, though, Miles could not bring up the obvious topics that he wanted to interrogate – inquire, rather – about. For the duration of their walk, he would just have to accept it. Phoenix laughed with the new people as if he had been friends with them for years. Astonishing, really, how he could both just bounce back from what they just went through and immerse himself in a random group of strangers.

The people asked questions like, "why are you two out of breath?" and some other personal details, but Phoenix just told them that "they enjoy a good run in old suits. Good work out," and other various partial truths, or flat-out lies. Phoenix told them that Miles kept checking the phone because he was playing "Catch 'em All" and was looking for critters to add to his collection. Miles wasn't sure what that was, but they started to gossip about all their 'dex's', whatever that meant. Miles just nodded along and let Phoenix do the talking. Evidently, Miles was 'shy' and had a stuttering problem. Whatever. At least they were safe – that was all that mattered at the moment.

Notes:

I don't even know what to say about this chapter. It's the one I've been waiting to post haha.


	14. Reunion

Summary:

Miles and Phoenix, now successfully evaded White, return to the Edgeworth's Law Offices. Miles tries to pull information from Phoenix, but he learns that it was a task easier said than done.

Reunion

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 7:46 PM

Once Phoenix and Miles reached the downtown center of crowded pubs, Phoenix waved off their temporary companions. Now alone, they walked down the pubs and stopped at a crosswalk. Miles caught his breath some time ago. Now he wanted answers. "Phoenix?"

"Yes?" Phoenix met Miles eyes as they waited near the street's intersection.

Miles could not formulate a coherent thought, much less articulate anything comprehensible. Perhaps Phoenix was right – maybe Miles was a stuttering fool. "I . . . I just have so much to ask you about . . ."

"And yet, can't think of a single thing to say, can you? Well, you had a run-in with someone who would've killed you. These things happen."

Miles shook his head, "You make it sound as if this happens on a frequent basis."

"You have no idea. The novelty of it dies down after about the third time someone threatens to kill you."

"Third?"

"I am just lucky you aren't out for blood!" Phoenix did find an unusual amount of humor in their encounter with White. He also never showed an ounce of fear.

"Normally, I prefer meeting friends over tea," Miles retorted, alluding to the abnormality in what Phoenix just described.

"Oh, that I believe," Phoenix laughed, "You're still the same as before."

"Is that so? You are quite different." Miles observed. There was an odd energetic charisma to Phoenix, and it came across as a bit eccentric. _Par for the course._

"Really? Hmm." Phoenix stared at Miles in a daydream like haze.

"Is something the matter?" Miles asked as Phoenix inspected him.

"Now _I'm _at a loss for words. I haven't really had a good chance to look at you yet. I knew you'd be handsome, but what I didn't realize is . . ." he trailed off.

"H-Handsome?" Miles suddenly felt very strange and especially did not envision such a remark from Phoenix.

"You're very . . .erm. Pretty. Yes. you have very pretty features. It's distracting. Oh, but in a good way."

"Pretty?" Phoenix could not really be instigating a romantic fondness, could he?

Phoenix raised their still joined hands. Somehow, Miles missed the fact that they were still interlocked in all the shock and excitement. "How – How long have we been –!?"

"Since we made it to the trail. Your hands are very soft, by the way. Oh. And manicured, huh? I bet you're kinda high maintenance, aren't you?"

Miles forcibly pulled away his hand and argued, "Just because I take care of my hygiene and skincare does not mean I am 'high maintenance'. What does that even mean?"

"I don't mind either way. I actually have preference for – oh!" Phoenix stopped mid-sentence, then pointed at the people staring at them in the outdoor tables, "And yes. They think we're together, love. So did our travel buddies, for what it's worth. Just act natural."

Miles felt his euphoria from earlier decline with something ominous taking its place. Indeed, they were drawing unwanted attention from a crowd.

"I'd love to take you to tea, dear. But I'm afraid we're on a tight schedule. I think it's a good time to regroup. Yeah?"

"Regroup?" Miles felt a hint of annoyance. "How can we possible regroup when you have been actively avoiding me for months?"

"'Avoiding' isn't the word I'd use . . ." Phoenix shifted his gaze.

"And what is the word you would use, then?" An unusual undertone took Miles' voice, but Phoenix shrugged it off.

". . . 'Evading'."

"Those are exactly the same thing!"

"Are you done yet?"

Miles stared at Phoenix, growing ever more provoked. _How dare you! _He thought, but yelled instead, "Not in the slightest!"

"When White matches that red car to your identity – who you are, where you live, and where you work – he's going to retaliate. You and your father are both in very real danger now. Call him to set up a meeting spot."

Miles, still seething, saw Phoenix's point and followed his instructions by calling the offices after returning Phoenix's phone and retrieving his own. After a few rings, a familiar voice answered.

"Edgeworth speaking."

"Father," Miles felt himself smile. How reassuring it was to hear him after that mess of an evening. "Please stay at the offices. I need to talk to you in person."

"Is something wrong?" Leave it to Gregory to pick up on subtle distress.

"I am fine. I will be there soon with a . . ." How did he want to describe Phoenix? His father found multiple ways to scrutinize Phoenix (and for good reason), but Miles could not afford to argue with White still after them. "A guest. I will explain once I get there." Phoenix did something on his own phone before pocketing it.

"A guest?" Gregory asked, bringing Miles back to his phone conversation.

"Someone who could help us with the Frost case." Not a lie, not the full truth – but they needed to hurry. _He's rubbing off on me in the worst possible way. _Miles eyed Phoenix harshly.

Gregory worried still, "If you're in immediate danger, call the police. Where are you?"

_. . . If Phoenix told the truth, the police would not be my ally at this time._

"Downtown. I will be at the offices shortly." Miles needed to end the call and figure out how to travel efficiently, seeing how he lost access to his car. If nothing else, Miles wanted to make White regret damaging his beloved vehicle.

"Be careful, Miles. Call for help if you need it." Gregory reiterated.

Miles ensured, "I will. See you soon."

"Law offices, then?" Phoenix pocketed his phone and knelt down by Missile. "You can give that back now. You've done well!" Missile released the ghost and barked happily. Phoenix held that ghost plush by its triangular shaped arm.

"Yes," The ghost plush distracted Miles. Why carry such an absurd item? Why take it from the house?

"How long would it take to walk?" Phoenix absent-mindedly looked at the watch on his wrist.

"It's a 15-minute drive from here," Miles answered.

"Too long, then," Phoenix raised his arm at a passing taxing.

"Phoenix? Are you sure it's okay to take that?" He gestured toward the ghost. _Too late to return it, I suppose._

Phoenix caught the attention of a taxi and it parked near them for boarding. "Yeah? Why wouldn't it be?" Phoenix opened the door and then had a look on his face like he realized something. "Who told you about Verrier?"

"I – learned about it through a business card. Also, Larry's release papers. That name showed up a few times and I thought it was worth checking into." Miles answered, then entered the taxi after Phoenix gestured it. Missile hopped into the center seat.

The driver looked over his shoulder and said, "That mutt ain't allowed." Missile growled in response.

"Excuse you?" Miles went cross. Phoenix had to dispel the tension with a little help from green paper. _A bribe. . ._

"How's about an extra tip for the dog?"

The driver simply asked, "Where you headed?"

Miles begrudgingly gave the directions and the taxi took off. Phoenix rolled down his window and made a twisted face when the car drove forward.

"Motion sickness," He claimed, then confirmed his own knowledge on the case for defending Frost. "How is Frost. She is your client, correct?" He did not look at Miles per se but focused on Missile when looking toward him.

"Yes. How do you know that I am taking her defense?" Miles answered.

"You followed your father into law after all. I'm happy for you."

_. . . And your father . . . Did you follow him into crime? No, I think not. You are a private investigator and Miss Frost's partner, both looking to imprudently take down Bluecorp through your own means._

Phoenix asked, "Do you enjoy it? Is it what you expected?"

The question gave Miles pause. "I suppose I never thought about it like that before. However, I cannot picture a different path for myself." Miles answered.

"And it's a good one for you. I think."

"And what about you?" Now the conversation seemed to speed up, "What is it that you 'do', Phoenix?"

"Oh, you know," Phoenix pulled at the ghost's comical little arms, "I get myself into troublesome situations like this. A lot."

"Why are you deflecting my questions?"

"It's been a day. I'm sure you can relate. Well, anyway, I'd rather talk about something else for now. Or do nothing." Phoenix window gazed.

"Can we really afford to be so laid back?" Miles asked, attempting a different approach.

"We'll get the chance to hash all those details in a bit. I just wanna pretend like everything's peachy for five minutes, okay?"

"Well, the situation is not 'peachy' as you say, and we need to start preparing."

"And we will. After we take some 'me' time. 'We' time? 'Us' time?" Phoenix pondered it for a moment, then said, "Just five minutes. That's all I'm asking for."

Miles exhaled. _I am negotiating with a man-child. _ He asked, "Then what is it you do want to talk about?"

"I'd hope to talk about something pleasant. It's been a decade and some change since we last saw each other, after all."

Again, Miles could not help but feel slighted by Phoenix. "Why did you not tell us you were home? Why did you never once stop by in the time you have been back?"

"Oh boy. I hit a sore spot – you're all serious now . . ."

"A _sore _spot? You have some nerve, Wright."

"Ah! To the last name addressing!" Phoenix threw his hands up.

"Leaving some peculiar paper trails behind is no way to treat someone, Wright. You have been _stringing me along _on whatever it is you are actually doing and I want answers."

"And here I was surprised you didn't learn everything you needed to, Edgeworth, considering you've been lax on personal boundaries lately."

"Says the one who bugged my car!"

"So you didn't sneak up on me again! You almost had me a few times."

"Oh. Right. You and your theatrics, Wright. I should have realized that whole 'play' you set up for me was an act – it was terrible and hardly believable!"

"And you fell for it like a sucker!" Phoenix sniggered, then raised his voice, "Eh, Mr. Edgeworth?"

"What, are you Canadian now?"

"French Canadian. Although, being called a Frenchman is wrong. I took one of those ancestral tests – I don't even have a percentage of French blood. Something like point zero zero zero zero one percent."

"Verrier is also French, I thought. Was it something that Larry said?" Miles closed his eyes, trying to think on Larry's wording.

"Back to this? I just said I wasn't French, were you listening? Oh well. . . And here I was, hoping to continue flirting. Shame." Phoenix shrugged, ending one argument and nearly starting a new one.

"Flirting?" Miles repeated. There was that strange notion again. "And who were you flirting with?"

"Well, my current company is you, Missile, and the cab driver. I'll let you work out who I'm talking about."

The driver gave them a dirty look through the rearview mirror. Miles deduced perfectly who Phoenix meant, but had very little interest in pursuing it, "Please tell me you are not Larry levels of insufferable."

"How rude. That comparison is completely uncalled for. If you don't like it, I will stop. But I'll be damned if I pretend you aren't exactly my type."

"Excuse me?" Miles felt a burst of heat. Phoenix was sincerely admitting attraction without a hint of shame.

"By that face I'd say it's unwelcomed. So, friends, then?"

"I . . . I did not realize anything else was on the table?" What was Miles supposed to say to that?

"For you, everything's on the table," Phoenix coughed into his cast then pretended he said nothing.

"I am uncomfortable with this topic of discussion," Miles wanted to end this subject at once.

"Alright, noted. So, now what, Edgeworth?" Phoenix relented easily enough.

"Why are you asking me?"

"So, you can bring up a safer topic."

_Are you insane? After that, I am at even more of a loss for words._

"Oh. I know. Next time you get your nails done, can I come?"

"Why?" Miles sensed some deceit.

"Mine are filthy. Been working too hard lately. Y'know?"

Miles felt his forehead crease and he declined, "Make your own appointment, then."

"But, wouldn't it be more fun with a friend? Y'know, normal friends' stuff? You're mad that I haven't been around, so let's change that!"

"Ngh." _I am utterly speechless. I need to redirect this entire conversation elsewhere before he says anything worse!_

"Who is Verrier to you?" Miles asked, puzzling all the new pieces he had.

"Hmm. Why?"

"I need to know the significance of all the people involved in this case. I know very little about Verrier, beyond his abject obsession with Halloween and cheap pranks." Miles explained. Phoenix snorted.

"Halloween is so fun, right?"

"No. Keep it in October when it is actually acceptable to have those unsightly stage props on people's lawns."

"Meh. Don't really see your point."

"It's not even technically middle of August yet."

"What if I told you those unsightly props have been up since last Halloween?"

". . . This is pointless, let's just discuss what truly matters."

"I'd rather stargaze." Phoenix looked out the open window and taking in the night breeze, stonewalling Miles' progress.

Miles felt his irritation building up. He yelled in reaction, "Phoenix! Start taking this seriously!"

Phoenix did not take his eyes off the outside world when he answered just as defiantly, "I'm burnt out and want to enjoy a nice car ride before answering all these super tough questions."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Nope," He popped that p deliberately. "I want us to share in momentary happiness. No work talk right now, okay?"

"The trial starts 10:00 AM tomorrow, and I do not nearly have enough evidence for a counterargument. I do not have the luxury of being so relaxed."

"Having an aneurysm will definitely set you back. 9 out of 10 doctors can confirm. Just breathe, okay? You have me. And I have exactly what you need."

"Then tell me what I have because I am less than assured. Do you have information on the . . . incident or the persons involved?" Miles did not want the cab driving to work out what they were discussing. Phoenix followed along, though.

"Both."

"Truly?" Miles exhaled, thankful that Phoenix actually answered a direct question for once. "Well. That's reassuring if it is true."

"I do. Truly."

_Okay. Maybe I am overreacting. I need to compose myself. _"Phoenix?"

"Yeah?"

". . . Who is the one doctor out of ten that would argue against aneurysms being a 'setback'?"

"There's a clinic called Hotti. You'd find your quack doc there."

"You answered that entirely too quickly . . ." Miles could not tell if Phoenix joked or not. Maybe there truly was an incapable doctor out there. _Is that where he bandaged his left hand? Did a swindler doctor bandage it?_

"Do you want to go full on spa day or just do nails? Honestly, I could go for a massage right about now." Phoenix haphazardly bounced topics before Miles could complete one sane thought. "Oh. Do you think they have discount deals for just one hand? Don't think I can get this one done, now can I?" He waved his cast hand and then set it on Missile, who panted joyfully at the attention.

"I am not arranging anything of the sort with you." Miles refused again. This was tiring. Friendship left Miles feeling exhausted and realized why he preferred the company of his books.

"Ohh boo. You are zero fun," Phoenix pouted childishly. His eyes flickered back into something more considerate, though, and he said, "Tomorrow will be a tedious battle, but I believe we have just enough to reverse the pressure back on them."

"To be so confident. You must have a reason." _He told Frost about naming another suspect. That's probably his intention for White and that shows considerate knowledge on his part _

"How familiar are you with the courts?" Miles said, though Phoenix could have such knowledge on behalf of his criminal-like activities.

Phoenix pushed the ghost in Miles' face and exclaimed, "Ghost says, 'Shhh!'"

"Get that toy out of my face!" _One minute, he's adult and mature – the next, a child and downright infantile at that! This is the friend I have been waiting for?_

"Ouch. You hurt Ghost's feelings."

"It's a stuffed toy. It has no feelings." _Am I really explaining this? What is this? Regression?_

Phoenix frowned and said, "Now you've hurt my feelings."

"Ugh. You are just as bad as Larry! No. You are worse than him!"

"Oh yeah?" Phoenix challenged Miles' statement. "Tell me. Has Larry ever dashingly rescued you before?"

"I could have found a way out on my own." _So much has happened, and I somehow already forgot about the window escape. And my car. Oh, I am not even through being angered by that! _Miles pacified himself once more, reminding himself the goal was to learn as much as he could in preparation for tomorrow. "You seemed familiar with Verrier's house."

"Yeah. I am. I can map out a layout if you really need it."

Miles found that comment to be particularly curious. "So. This Verrier person and you must be close to allow you to alter his house in such a way."

"Ooh. How perceptive. I suppose you can think of it that way."

Miles hated to bring it up again, since he opened himself up to more teasing; however, he needed to know what everyone's interconnective relationship statuses were. Working and personal. "Is there a romantic component to this, then?"

Phoenix giggled merrily, then said, "Only if I am that vain. Stranger things have happened, though."

"That . . . did not answer my question. At all."

"Whew. I wonder how you well fare in court, my dear? Read between the lines."

"I am perfectly capable!" Miles defended himself," I do not need you doubting my ability."

"You're very book smart and I'm sure you can quote every law ever created at this point; but when it comes to reading people, you're lacking."

"That is not true. I am exceptional at spotting lies."

"My, I have you wound up. We're no further along than when we held hands on main street." Phoenix winked at him then returned to stargazing.

"This whole display is meant to rile me, then? For what purpose?"

Phoenix shrugged then said, "You're on the clock, right? Yet, you're easy to incite."

"Then this was merely a test? Do you take me for a fool?"

"Not at all. But . . . you're missing a great chunk of the obvious being so agitated. Think about what I said and tell me the truth behind it."

"You lied to me? Why?"

"I didn't say that. You just let a small little detail slip through your fingers. Well, at least one. I'm not entirely sure what you do and don't know yet."

"A detail? What did I miss, then?" Miles worked through what Phoenix said, but soon realized he had not been paying that much attention to nuance. _That is clearly a mistake. Frost said something before – thinking Phoenix to be akin to a con artist of sorts. I see I have to watch what he says more carefully. _

Phoenix still did not provide an explanation. "I imagine something similar could happen in court. Follow the wrong logic sequence and you'll end up with suppositions that are far different than reality." Phoenix spoke in more conundrums than absolutes. "You made one fatal assumption, Miles. But I will not tell you what it is. Yet."

"A fatal assumption?" Miles supposed it was possible that he overlooked something. He did not expect to have to analyze Phoenix so closely, though; only the details surrounding his current circumstances. "You have lost me, Phoenix."

"Curiously, I have you figured out. To be fair, I did set it up this way. It just wasn't really meant for you. Eh. It kinda was. But not for this . . ."

"What are you talking about?"

"I will explain it in more detail soon. But it's really only a safeguard I built for myself."

"A 'safeguard'? And this links back to Verrier? Is it safe to assume that you moved here when he did?"

"Ah. That's sorta true. Sorta not."

"How? It's an either/or situation, Wright. It's not like there is a lot of gray area."

". . .Okay. It's true." Phoenix trailed off . . . "Except . . ."

"Except _what_?"

"Look. I only want to explain this once – twice, maybe, if you need me to tomorrow. I am not trying to lie, here, but there's just something . . . inconsistent."

"What is inconsistent, then?" Miles took a few long breaths in and out, reminding himself to not explode at Phoenix, who started being slightly more communicative with information. Slightly.

"You are really having a hard time with this, aren't you? Like, it's a puzzle you've yet to solve and it's driving you a bit mad."

Miles jaw locked. Phoenix was driving him mad in multiple ways, for sure. "If it's that obvious to you, maybe you could help me see where my blind spots are."

"Well. Assuming the trial extends to its maximum three days . . ."

"Hm?" Miles crossed his arms, "You know about that, then."

"That means four days from now . . ." Phoenix continued to trail off in fractured, incomplete phrases.

"What? What happens then?"

Phoenix looked at him with a quizzical, wide-eyed expression. He let a few seconds pass before asking innocently, ". . . You want a morning or afternoon spa appointment?"

"WRIGHT!" Miles yelled. _He caught me unsuspecting with his tomfoolery again. _Phoenix indignantly busted out laughing, clapping his hands once before realizing _that hurt, _and yelped in-between strangled squeals. He alternated between sounds of pain and pure delight. The driver kept looking back with multiple judgmental looks of disgust, but Phoenix apparently did not care.

"Ooh! Your feathers are easily ruffled! I love this so much!"

"Ugh!"_ This is why I hate childhood friends!_

All of them shared an uncomfortable, cramped space for several minutes. Only Phoenix and Missile seemed to endure the tense atmosphere, while Miles felt awkward and the driver steamed idly due to this rambunctious customer.

"Looks like we're here," Phoenix said between breaths, "Mind holding Ghost while I pay?"

"I'm not handling your toys, Wright."

"Then you pay and I'll hold onto Ghost."

"Fine," Miles stepped out of the car with Missile, and reached for his wallet, "If it means that I don't have to touch that thing, gladly."

Phoenix yelled jokingly from inside the car, "Ah! So hurtful! You're a big meanie!" Then he exited and had a very pleased look on his face.

"Would you act your age?" Miles walked away from the car and the driver readily took off away from the pair and their dog.

"Twenty-five is too young to have frustration creases. Life is meant to be enjoyed, right?" Phoenix pointed to just above Miles' eyes.

"I doubt there's any set 'meaning' ascribed by a phantasmal 'life' consciousness. However, by my standards, you are far too –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I can hear exactly what you're about to say in my head, so let's just say you scolded me and go have a spat inside, okay?" Missile wagged his tail and Phoenix decided to let the dog have his plush back – Missile was glad to take it and held onto it gently.

_I am already regretting this. . . _Miles shook his head and followed Phoenix in, who inexplicably took the lead into the _Edgeworth's _Law Offices. If Phoenix materialized a key, Miles would not be surprised at this point. That man was _brazen _and it was starting to really, incredibly annoy the ever-loving patience that was contained by an extremely short fuse on a _normal day _out of Miles.

"Door's unlocked." Phoenix predicted, then reached for it and turned the knob. . . . it was indeed unlocked.

"How . . ." _Forget it. Phoenix just seems to 'know' what will happen. _

"Your dad's concerned, so he wanted to make sure you could get in. Check your phone."

Miles looked at his phone and noticed several missed text messages from his father. Sure enough, Miles failed to take notice of the notifications, but Phoenix clued in on it.

"Time for a very lengthy grilling." Phoenix sighed, bracing himself for the grueling interrogation that was to come. "Five minutes goes by too quickly."

"That was a fifteen-minute car ride." Edgeworth corrected, or so he thought.

"Oh. Sure. I was talking about five minutes of laughter. It's good to laugh. As a defense lawyer, you should really learn how to put on a smile for your clients.

". . . I have heard similar before. I am not with a client, though."

"Aren't you, though?" Phoenix laughed. "At this point, I'm going to be tried for murder – either separate or with Frost."

"I never said I would defend you."

". . . Oh, really? You made that choice when you ran from the police. And I am thankful for that."

"Tell me honestly, Phoenix. Did you kill that younger Frost?" Miles asked.

Phoenix flinched. "Oh. Am I still a suspect in your eyes?"

"I have no proof one way or another. There are a few possibilities and I will not overlook the ones concerning you on presumption alone."

"I did not kill anyone." Phoenix said.

"How do I know that for sure?" Miles pressed. "I . . . I am having trouble with all these events surrounding you. My Father and I defend those we think are innocent and falsely accused. But if you actually did murder someone, I cannot condone any of this."

"I cannot prove it by talking out here."

"I would not want to bring a murderer in my Father's offices."

"Ah. You have the right to refuse me, as I do you. None of this is precedent to how a normal process operates. You have your rules; you like them very much. So, call the police and you will get that information secondary tomorrow, long after the trial and after you're able to do anything with it. Or hear me out now. Those are your choices, Miles."

"How do I know this wasn't your plan from the beginning? To have my Father and I together so you can manipulate us into believing your version of events?"

"You're an expert at spotting lies. So you tell me. I have not killed anyone. I do not plan on killing anyone. What happened to Fiona was an oversight and it should not have happened. It did, though. White killed her and I know I can prove it."

"White would be an awfully convenient scapegoat for you. You cannot deny that possibility."

Phoenix fiddled with his cast, "A convenient scapegoat that has been following me since last night. Tell me logically – if I said that White wanted to kill me, but failed to do so, where would be the first place he looked?"

"At . . . Where you live." Miles already concluded that.

"Then you and I should be able to prove that. He falsely believed that I would return there and I falsely believed that no one was home. I called Ruby as soon as I knew that White was on to me. Frost and I were partners but . . . well . . . as you'll find out, it doesn't seem like communication was our strong suit."

"I already knew that, too. . ." Miles sighed. "It is possible that you and the Frosts argued, then you killed Fiona to set Ruby up. Then you could have planned to have White incarcerated another way."

"Do you think I am capable of something complicated like that?" Phoenix asked.

"From what Frost said and how you have controlled events thus far? Undoubtedly."

"You give me too much credit. Time's wasting, Miles. if there's something you want to say, then say it."

Miles did have something he wanted to say. Something that would throw another wrench in their already strained reunion. "I do not want to bring a murderer into my Father's offices, nor do I want to protect such a person from the law."

"Ah."

"But I have made it this far in my investigation on some unaccredited trust in you. That you were not a criminal. I do not know what to believe and I do not know what to make of anything that involves you."

". . . How about a deal? You ask me one question and I will answer it as best as I can." Phoenix bargained, "If you do not like the answer, then I will leave you. Or you can have the police escort me. If you do like the answer, then we can start a discussion inside."

"How do I know you aren't a threat to me or my Father?"

"Never." Phoenix grimaced, then smiled. "I would never harm you. And I respect your Father too much to wish harm on him, let alone do anything."

Miles believed Phoenix. That was not a lie. However, he said, "That's not the question I wanted to ask."

"Fair enough. What is?" Phoenix played with a necklace that Miles had not noticed before. It was his Blue Signal Samurai on a chain that his white undershirt's collar kept hidden until then.

"Why did you not tell us when you first came home?" That was the only question that Miles wanted a straightforward answer at that point in time. Phoenix lowered his arm and the smile disappeared from his face.

"My life is dangerous. I cannot deny that. I came here for a job and . . . there is certain risks to that job."

"A job?" The truth rang in his words – vague, and of a similar thread to the answer he gave before, but he answered it none-the-less. "What job?"

"Your two questions are used up. Make your decision, Miles."

"I . . . I will hear you out." Miles said, still internally fighting how _wrong _all of this was.

Phoenix, on the other hand, smiled, "Good. I'm ready, let's get this done."


	15. Rebuttal

Summary:

Arguments ensue. What really happened?

Notes:

Another long chapter. Very mentally taxing to write and possibly mentally taxing to read. I spent a lot of time editing for clarity - but if things don't make sense let me know. Thanks!

Rebuttal

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 8:09 PM

With not much left to discuss on the outside of the offices, Miles, Phoenix, and Missile entered the building. Gregory heard them and met them in the hall immediately. "Miles! The police called here a short while ago. They said that your car was damaged, and I could not – ah. Phoenix."

"Good evening, Mr. Edgeworth." He smiled pleasantly.

"This is your 'guest'? And you brought him here?" Gregory was not pleased with this. He sighed and eyed Phoenix in suspicion. "What happened? How did you make it here without your car?"

"We called a taxi." Miles answered, "Father. I apologize for what happened and not fully explaining myself on our last call. We were in a hurry . . . White showed up and immediately made himself threatening. I – there is a lot to tell."

"You are alright, though, Miles? Did he hurt you at all?"

"I am fine. . . . Phoenix navigated us out of danger." Miles confirmed and attempted to reduce the scrutiny on Phoenix.

"Thank goodness for that. Though . . . Phoenix . . . I cannot say that I am very welcoming of fugitives." Gregory folded his arms.

"I have not been officially named," Phoenix explained, "A warrant for my arrest hasn't been made, though I will be taken in if I am recognized."

"How do you know that?" Gregory asked.

"I looked it up today – the most wanted adverts."

Gregory slid back into his office and said, "Come in. The police may stop by to follow up on the car. It will not be long before you are caught, so I suggest you have your case presented by then."

"I understand." Phoenix said, then followed Miles and Missile in. Phoenix took the plush toy from Missile and the laptop bag from Miles.

"Woah!" Larry sprung from the couch and Missile hopped up with him, "Took you long enough!"

"Took a few bouncy back roads to get here. I have to ask, though, why are you here? Are you the coffee boy?" Phoenix asked.

"He is mooching," Miles corrected. "Although making him do some work around here might be beneficial. Thank you for the idea, Phoenix."

"Hey! You don't gotta say it like that! Ignore Miles, he can be so mean."

"I know!" Phoenix, the betrayer, agreed with Larry. "He insulted Ghost!"

"That's a plushy? Dude, why you have that? You gonna give it to a girl?"

"Nah." Phoenix shook his head, "Ghost is mine."

"Don't you mean that toy is Verrier's property?" Miles asked.

"DUUUUDE!" Larry cut in with nothing important, "Don't tell me you're accepting gifts from a guy!"

"I probably should just let that question slide." Phoenix shrugged.

"If some of your earlier remarks were genuine, I would." Miles nodded.

"Eh? You two already keeping secrets?" Larry pouted.

Phoenix looked on the edge of Gregory's desk by chance, seeing the photo album he sent as a joke, and said, "I thought I told you to hide that! Mr. 'I am good with keeping incriminating evidence on full display'. If the police do show up here, you might not want to keep something like that so obviously out in full view."

Miles shouted back, "Because of you, I haven't had time to think about it!"

"Anyway, it is late." Gregory said, putting the album in his desk and sitting down. "Miles. you said that doll belongs to Gervais Verrier?"

"Jarvy?" Larry repeated poorly.

"Wow. That isn't even close to being right." Phoenix laughed.

"That doll came from his bedroom . . . Phoenix took it with him." Miles still had no idea why, though. Phoenix set down his laptop and began to charge both his phone and computer, with some maneuverability issues. Miles explained in full detail what happened – the lawn ornaments, the bedroom, White, and the escape.

"You guys escaped through a window?" Larry asked.

Gregory added, "And then you avoided the police once they arrived. I am not sure that I like these tales. Phoenix, I believe it is time to thoroughly examine your actions."

"I understand." Phoenix nodded, standing in front of Miles' desk. He expected this.

"Your innocent smile will not work on me, Mr. Wright. Let us begin with Gervais Verrier. You do know that he is a Bluecorp employee, correct?"

"I do." Phoenix nodded.

"Oh, that's right! The French dude!" Larry said to himself. A look from Miles told him to remain silent while they 'discussed' things.

Gregory continued after Larry's outburst, "And you have access to his house, correct? But the Frosts also had access to your apartment. Tell me about that living situation – it seems peculiar."

"I rented my apartment solely for a place for the Frost sisters to lay low. I lived at the house, however, before I met the sisters." Phoenix said.

Miles asked, "You rented it for the sister's sake, then?"

"For their safety, yes. They did not want to go to the police after what happened to Ursula and that rookie detective. Since then, Ruby worked herself to death trying to find dirt on White . . ."

"Then you know about Ursula Frost." Gregory nodded, "When we investigated the apartments before the murder occurred, that unit hardly had any furnishings. They were not living in those conditions, were they?"

"Ruby slept there if she needed to, I think. I don't really know where she stayed. Hotels, maybe? For the most part, though, we used that apartment to meet clients."

"You are saying they took on clients? Is this the photography business?" Gregory asked.

"There were reports of suspicious people coming and going. This would make sense." Miles said in agreement.

"Yes. Ruby did."

"Did you take on clients as well?" Gregory asked.

"No. I kept to the same jobs."

"Phoenix." Miles hated to do this, but he refuted, "Frost asked me when we first met if I was one of your 'clients'. You were meeting people at that location."

"Interviewing targets of White that came forth in privacy. A few of them were willing to speak with me, as long as their identities remained concealed. They were not clients, technically; rather, informants."

"They were the victims, then." Miles said.

"Bluecorp is the face for a very extensive blackmail organization. The people who came forward felt trapped. Like their lives were ending either way. I had those testimonies catalogued, though I cannot do too much with them."

"Do you have those testimonies?" Miles asked. Phoenix took his plush and snapped open the back panel. He then unzipped the toy and pulled out a binder. _It's a bag? _Phoenix opened the toy and pulled out a binder, though he had to use Miles' desk to flip through it because of his bum hand. Phoenix was more organized than he let on, and his binder was alphabetized and sectioned.

"Here are the testimonies." He gave a few written documents; they were organized by victim type details. Reading through them, Miles found out to what degree White destroyed lives.

"This is . . . exceptional. Then how did you make money? Were you buying and selling these testimonies?" Gregory asked.

"No. I only used those for perspective . . . the bulk of my income came through the name 'Verrier'."

_Through the name? that is an odd phrasing._

"You directly benefited from Bluecorp, then?" Gregory observed.

"In a way, yes. A necessary evil." Phoenix admitted.

Gregory paused, then asked, "Then is it possible that, with Verrier being a Bluecorp employee, that you gained the Frosts' trust to then relay that information directly back to White?"

"And why would I do that?" Phoenix asked, though he rephrased his point. "I suppose that is possible. Do you have any proof that I did or that I would do something like that?" Phoenix asked. Miles narrowed his eyes. _Proof, huh?_

"I might." Gregory answered, which puzzled Miles even more. Phoenix even seemed surprised momentarily, before asking.

"Then what is this proof?" Gregory showed him the canister marked as PW/GV. Phoenix then asserted, "I'm not sure what this film is."

"Miles found it in that darkroom of yours. Your initials and Gervais' are one the canister and I know that you do film work as well. It is entirely possible that you were meaning to develop this roll for the intention on delivering the photographs to Verrier, and thus to White. You have been active on Bluecorp's grounds – this might be why."

". . . Interesting. The initials really do match up. I wonder why it exists?" Phoenix retrieved a wooden contraption from the ghost's backside and presented it. "This reads negatives, so you'll be able to see what's on that roll." Phoenix explained how to slide in the negatives through the box and warned, "They will come out red and gray . . . but you should get a clear idea of what's on this."

"You must not fear what is on this if you are so willfully giving us an apparatus." Miles said.

"No, actually. I have no idea what's on this film roll and I worry about what we're about to discover." Phoenix replied.

"Oh? Why is that?" Miles asked.

". . . Just a feeling." Gregory, Miles, and Phoenix hovered over the apparatus and the first picture came out with a white smear down the middle. "Go to the next one. This one might be damaged. Film is fickle . . ."

The first ten were equally damaged, but the few pictures after were clearly of Phoenix at Bluecorp, the parking lot of the prosecutor's offices, and Verrier's house. The next was of Phoenix and Larry at the courthouse. Each picture had a smear, and Phoenix's expression went a bit dark.

"What does this mean?" Miles asked, "Obviously, Phoenix could not have taken these but . . . that leaves the Frosts. Why were they taking pictures of your daily activities?"

"Hmm." Phoenix stepped away from the photos. "I will have to . . . think on that one." _Liar. You already figured it out. If Ruby or Fiona took these pictures, that could only truly mean one thing._

"These pictures were meant to use as blackmail against you, is that it?" Miles asked.

". . . It's possible." Phoenix admitted.

"Why would she do that?" Miles asked.

"Ruby never did trust anyone, but I didn't think I ever gave her reason to . . . I will have to think on that some more. Do you mind if I store that film properly? I don't want any more deterioration to it in case I need it later . . ." Phoenix requested.

Gregory nodded, "Yes. Preservation of evidence is a must. We will take a small break."

Phoenix took the film and went into the kitchen / bathroom area. Miles and Gregory both looked at each other in shared apprehension. Gregory said, "It's pretty clear that either or both Frost sister were readily willing to let him take a fall. Regardless, we must continue our questioning."

"It will make tomorrow difficult if Ruby meant to blackmail and betray Phoenix." That realization angered Miles more than it probably should. It's not like _he _was the one who was betrayed – but he could not help but feel it by proxy.

"Our focus should be determining who committed the murder and determining motivation for all parties involved. Phoenix might be the one who gives us perspective, but we can't make the mistake of trusting him wholly."

"I do trust him, though." Miles admitted in earnest, then defended his position. "He admitted to no prior knowledge of the film roll but readily gave us a way to verify its contents. He does not seem to be holding anything back now. Let's be careful when we bring that film roll back up, agreed?"

"Then I will continue to be the skeptic party. There was something else I noticed about that roll." Gregory said, "It did not contain any photographs on Verrier – so why is it marked as such?"

"Oh?" _That is a good point, _"Maybe he was on the damaged ones? Or maybe he was the one who hired the photographs from the Frosts. We do not know much about him, I suppose; he is seeming to be more involved than we originally thought."

"Yes, I think so." Gregory said. When Phoenix came back, his smile and eyes were less bright and cheery, but he wore it all the same. Gregory asked, "The living situation still seems amiss to me. The Frost sisters had their own individual homes, so was there any need for this arrangement? You lived with Verrier?"

"I live at that house. White terrorized Ruby and Fiona after Ursula's murder. He did not know my name, so he could not trace them." Phoenix answered.

"Then you are saying you felt the need to protect them? What motivated you to become involved in the first place? Your roommate?" Gregory asked.

"White came under my radar before I met the sisters. I met them after my investigation already began."

"Because of Verrier, I take it?" Gregory reiterated.

Phoenix's face went neutral, "What do you know about 'Verrier', anyway?"

"I did look him up after Miles left." Gregory pulled a file from his desk, "A French immigrant who moved here in April 2015, then became employed at Bluecorp in December of 2015; the same time as when you rented that apartment out. Before Bluecorp, though, his employment records are also restricted, so we know very little about him."

_Verrier moved in April. Phoenix moved in December. That is an inconsistency. He mentioned it earlier in the taxi._

Miles asked, "So, then you did not move here with Verrier. You boarded with him to jointly learn more about Bluecorp? What was your goal? What did you want from Bluecorp?"

"I really did just want to help the sisters."

Miles answered his vague statement with, "Really? Because you said earlier that 'you were investigating before meeting the sisters'. That statement contradicts the one from earlier."

". . . So it does." Phoenix blinked a few times, "Sorry. Before I met them, I had my own reasons for wanting White exposed."

"And those reasons are?" Miles asked.

"A job." Phoenix said.

"And does this job come with a contractual agreement of some sort?" Gregory asked, "Your employment record is quite barren."

"Yes, but it was never made public."

"Then it was an illegal contract?" Gregory pushed.

". . . Hmm. It was a quiet negotiation. One to gather information in preparation for a full-fledged investigation."

"So, it was entirely illegal." Miles concluded. "Just say that and we can move on."

"Rude." Phoenix said.

"Who was your employer? Verrier?" Gregory asked.

"No. Lana Skye." Phoenix answered.

"Phoenix! I sincerely doubt that!" Miles yelled, slamming a hand on the nearest desk. "Lana Skye is the chief prosecutor in this district. Why would she illegally write a contract for you to – ah!"

"Unless it wasn't illegal, she needed a private investigator, and the negotiations were kept quiet due to the nature of the job?" Phoenix chuckled. "Sometimes not even prosecutors can handle petty cases like this without outside help. Luckily, my skills fit what she needed. That's all, really."

Gregory stated, "Even if that's all true, then proof of this contract should exist."

"It does at that." He handed the Edgeworths a signed contract detailing his tasks from the binder now out in the open. Employer as Lana Skye and the contracted as Phoenix Wright. The terms were to not take anything from the property, but to analyze business exchanges.

"Business exchanges?" Miles asked.

"If you think there's something funny about a large-scale organization, analyze the money flow." Phoenix answered.

"I see. If this document is legitimate, why did you not go to Chief Skye?" Miles asked.

"Look at the disclosure clause. It basically says I'm royally screwed if I get caught. She has no plans to intervene on my behalf. Lovely woman, she is."

"That is a crude paraphrasing, but it is stated." Gregory nodded, "Why would you sign a contract like this?"

"I have no sense of self-preservation. And I wasn't planning on getting caught, either. I did have a 'if things fall through, do this' plan, though. So, I wasn't entirely unprepared."

Miles asked Phoenix, "And this contingency plan is . . . us?"

"Yes."

"Why would she hire a _Liberal Arts _major for something of this nature?" Miles questioned.

"Hey! I didn't just study theatre, y'know?"

"And what did you study, then?" Gregory inquired.

"Criminology and Crime Scene Investigation." Phoenix answered.

"We only found the Liberal Arts Associate Degree." Gregory shook his head.

"I have multiples degrees. Just because you found one but not the others, doesn't mean I'm not telling you the truth." Phoenix argued.

". . .Well, this contract certainly proves your connection to White could have started with a job. This job might validate with that type of degree." Gregory admitted, "You might consider your options more wisely in the future, though. That is, if you truly had nothing to do with Miss Fiona's murder."

Phoenix retrieved the contract and claimed, "Why would I have either Frost sister killed in my own apartment? So, I could potentially indict myself later on?"

"Let us assume that you knew about the film roll canister," Gregory said, "If you found out the sisters blackmailed you; would you call for their silence?"

"Father, what are you suggesting?" Miles interrupted. "I thought we were going to handle that topic gently?"

"White is involved with Phoenix's movements, that much is certain now that we have seen his contract. But we cannot dismiss any possibility. We cannot afford to make any mistakes, and that includes trusting old faces." Gregory argued.

"I do not mind." Phoenix stated, regaining his own confidence. "I am still trying to figure out what I want to believe about that film roll."

"You said something a moment ago that caught my interest, Phoenix." Gregory said, "About the right people coming to Frost's aid. Is it possible that you coming to Miles' rescue now gives you access to this office and a way to shut down our defense of Frost? If you don't manage to spin a tale to your own liking, will you threaten us with violence?"

"Father! That is insane!"

Before Gregory could react, Phoenix shook his head, "I didn't kill anyone and I won't threaten you, either. We now know the contents of that film roll, but that changes nothing. It's irrelevant."

"It is a possible motive for you." Gregory hypothesized. "It shows that you were at the prosecutor's offices, even. You were transferring your findings and, if shown to White, you would be in real danger. That is what is happening now, isn't it?"

"This theory only works if two things are true. One – that I knew about it, which I didn't. And two, even if I did learn about it, would I go as far as to murder a sister to set up the other? This theory also doesn't mind the fact that White is very much involved in my life right now, in more ways than I care for." Phoenix replied.

"We found it in the darkroom. If you and the Frosts utilized the same area for development, you could have discovered it before us." Miles pointed out. _I do not think that is what happened, though._

"Beyond a hypothetical." Phoenix demanded. "The picture of Larry and me at the courthouse was the last of the sequence, taken yesterday at 2:30 PM. I know that because that was when Larry and I visited. I was entirely unaware that someone took my picture then or that I was followed. That means I could not have known before 2:30 yesterday afternoon."

Gregory answered, "The murder happened a few hours after that. The murder site is also in your name. The death of Fiona benefitted you, depending on how you factor that film roll in."

"I went back to Bluecorp immediately after Larry and I parted ways. I stayed until 5:30 PM. I called Ruby moments after learning my operation was compromised. I knew that White would look for me at the apartments and so I told Ruby to vacate. What followed that should never have happened. Ruby told me the apartment was vacant . . . clearly, that was not the case."

"Father, the fire alarm and Bluecorp was pulled yesterday at 5:30. I suspect that it was probably Phoenix."

"But you do not know for sure that it was Phoenix." Gregory argued.

"It is a timestamp. And it fits directly with what is likely the established timeline and corroborates with Ruby's version of events. It is consistent."

"I am the one who pulled the fire alarm. White would do no harm to me with witnesses around." Phoenix declared.

"That does still leave unaccounted hours." Gregory said, "The hours leading up to the fire alarm and the hour after. How do we know for sure that you are telling us the truth, Phoenix?"

"That means either White or I went to the apartment and killed Fiona. Ruby is innocent in this scenario." Phoenix concluded. "I am fine with that."

"You are?" Gregory took a step back.

"I am. Regardless of what Ruby may or may not have done to me, I know she did not kill her sister . . . and that is the only point that needs addressed: who killed Fiona? The rest is less important." Phoenix stated.

"Father. We may need to rethink this argument." Miles suggested, seeing both side's points. "Phoenix's version still matches up with Ruby's. They are both in agreement that it was White who killed Fiona. And remember Mr. Yogi, as well. The more likely party who went to the apartments is still White."

_A witness saw a man who looked like White after he committed the murder. We are chasing the wrong narrative if we continue down this path._

"I will rethink it, Miles. Though I am far from done."

"Thank you, Father." _Father wants proof. Phoenix handed over that apparatus in good faith – I feel there is more here than we have taken the time to consider._

Phoenix smiled, trying to ease the tension. Yes, it was clear he knew all of this was necessary vetting and he was cooperating. "Without evidence, it is hard to say what happened at the apartments with certainty."

"And who is to say we do not have evidence?" Gregory asked, though by the time they arrived at the crime scene, most items of importance were sent forensics. They were getting lost in semantics and conjectures.

"If you had something more definitive, you would not be coming up with these scenarios. Also, if you truly believed I killed Fiona or was a threat to you, I would have already been hauled off. So, I have to ask, Mr. Edgeworth, I get the feeling that there is something specific you want to ask me about. I want to hear all of your doubts."

"That's . . . you are a confident one, I will say that much." Gregory stated, though it was unclear if he was put-off, baffled, or impressed.

"There's still a lot of supposition from your arguments. And I know that both you and Miles made the same false assumption. I think a different approach is called for here."

"I would love to hear this assumption, then." Gregory invited.

"Since you find me culpable, it is proper to state all that you postulate. That is how charges are normally presented, right? I imagine the answer to all your doubt lies within the same misunderstanding."

"You seem to know a fair amount about law, Phoenix." Miles picked up on that trait of his, again. Gregory nodded along to this observation.

"I know my basic rights, at the very least. So, am I right? Do you have something else you wanted to ask?"

Gregory hesitated, then said, "You are correct, though I wanted to wait to bring this up." Edgeworth the senior paused, trying to frame his question just right. Once he knew how he wanted to ask it, Gregory questioned, "Is it not a little suspect that you flew all the way from France just to take a job for Chief Skye's sake? That does not add up, either."

"It wouldn't. I did not come here for White. That just sorta happened." Phoenix confirmed.

"I believe I know just who it is that you came all this way for." Gregory said.

"Oh?" Phoenix tilted his head. Miles gave his father a similar look.

"Phoenix. Your entire adult history in the States starts in December of 2015. On December 21st 2015, the courts approved your father's plea and a yearlong parole phase began. On December 21st 2016, a full year from then, there will be a trial to determine your father's readiness to be reinstated into the real world. In only five months, your father may be released . . . And I don't believe that you came over here on a whim or a job. You came here specifically because of this."

What Gregory said put Miles and Larry both in disbelief. Miles said, "Father, I thought you said that he had not been released?"

"He isn't." Phoenix answered for Gregory. Miles looked at him. "Yet."

"I thought you might be well informed on that topic." Gregory said to Phoenix. To Miles, he said, "When I talked to you about it, Ray and I were looking into it. We discovered that the institution believes Mr. Wright the senior's mental condition has stabilized significantly over the last decade."

"And by parole, you mean he is let out of the institution?" Miles asked.

"Supervised." Gregory nodded.

"Unbelievable." Miles said. _Unacceptable._

"They're gonna let a murderer out? For real?" Larry cued in.

"Murderer?" Phoenix asked in such a faux naïve way, that Miles knew instantly that Phoenix was lying about his true feelings. "Hmmm. A trial to assess the year's behavioral reactions to stimuli of the outside world. This sort of thing is only allowed because my father is **not** a murderer. Legally tried – and found 'Not Guilty'. There is no mistake here – he is free to seek out rehabilitation and release."

"Then . . . then you don't think your dad did it?" Larry asked. Miles began to see it, though. The nuance and the meaning hanging on Phoenix's voice, drenched in contemptible malice. _Phoenix was definitely plotting something_, though it was unclear what.

"Phoenix. Do you really believe that your father is not the one who killed your – your mother?" Miles hated asking, but that position had to be made clear.

"It isn't what I believe that matters. He is not the guilty party by the State's findings. And that will never change. It's a fact cemented by that verdict. He is, however, a mentally unstable being. He's just been a good little boy these last few years."

"A 'good little boy'?" _There it was – the spite in his tone revealed him_. "Then you have no plans on intervening or stalling the plea?" Miles asked.

"That is what I was fearing. Retaliation on your part, Phoenix." Gregory said.

". . . There isn't anything I can do about it." Phoenix answered. The air went cold. "Let it be. I have not thought about it in years, nor do I model any of my actions around . . . that man. If the courts approved his appeal, then let it be. I am not seeking him out."

Miles had a hard time believing Phoenix would do nothing. Gregory also had his doubts and began another questioning into this. "You said that you had not patterned your actions around him. Your arrival in December was prompted by this appeal, though, of that I am certain. You knew about it ahead of time, though, because of what Mr. Wright sent you in November 2015."

"Sent me? November?" Phoenix asked, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That is a boldface lie, Phoenix. Tell us the truth so we can discern your full actions for the last year." Gregory requested as nicely as he could.

"No, I'm actually pretty clueless this time. I got no idea what you're talking about . . ."

"For the last twelve years, your father has sent a letter on the date in which he was forced into the mental institution. This is a fact that I can prove. This year, however, he sent two letters. One in October like normal . . . and one in November. If I am right, he detailed his plea to you to instigate a reaction from you."

". . . Letters?" Phoenix still played dumb. Was it an act this time?

"Thirteen in total, sent to your Aunt's house and addressed to you. Judging by how he talked to you in the past, I cannot assume that these letters were all that well-meaning. That final letter would have reached your hands before you arrived here. It may very well be the sole reasons you're here and that you have been silent all this time." Gregory said.

"Hmm." Phoenix put his hand to his chin in thought. "Even if that were true and the postal gods were in favor of fast mail that month, I do not see how this relates to any misgivings?"

"It is just one more grievance I have with your reappearance under all the circumstances that surround you. Before we learned of your contract with Skye, your lack of concrete employment otherwise suggests criminal activity. Perhaps that was a misunderstanding; and I would be glad to hear it. I do want to know what those letters said and if they prompted you to act as you have. If you cannot provide honest answers, then I will have the police escort you off my property." Gregory said.

"I will leave on my own if it comes to that."

"Notifying the police is a civic duty." Gregory stated, "I want complete honesty from you."

"Honesty? Honestly, I have no desire to talk about that man or that incident. There isn't much to say. It's over and done with and I don't want to go digging it up again." Phoenix said.

"You are distancing yourself from him?" Miles asked, also trying to be careful in his tone.

". . . Even if he didn't do it, I still had to live with him. Every time I – no. this is pointless. I don't have the letters. I am sure they exist, but I learned of my father's parole a different way after I returned here."

"That is your new claim?" Gregory asked, "Are you certain?"

Phoenix nodded, "Actually, I think I see it, now. Your problems with me lies with four things. My reasons for returning home. My allegiances while stateside. The letters– which I honestly didn't know anything about. And my motivations behind my actions for the last two years. Does that sum up your worries?"

_Two years?_

"Not exactly, but you have captured the heart of it. You secondarily involved yourself with White, but only to pass the time until your father's hearing. That is what I believe." Gregory answered.

"Two years, Phoenix?" Miles asked.

"More like a year and a half." Phoenix changed the timeline, but why?

Miles caught on to Phoenix's ploy, "Are you trying to include April in as your arrival date? You answered earlier that you and Verrier came to the States at the same time, but that seems false."

"Let's see. Yes. I was stateside in April 2015, long before either letter was written or sent. My aunt never told me about any of the letters these last thirteen years. If anyone had actually read its contents, it would be her."

Gregory lost his temper slightly, "There is no proof that you were ever here in April! Your state ID card was issued in December as well! It wasn't just the apartment that points to that fact. All the evidence points to that you were NOT stateside until December! And do you really, truly expect us to believe that you had no knowledge of those letters?"

"The only estate that they would route to is my Aunt's."

"And?" Miles asked.

"My aunt is notorious about hiding my mail from me. She kept a few of my scholarships hidden. I've had to threaten her with a federal level charge a few times." Phoenix laughed, bouncing back. "She doesn't really learn."

"What scholarship was this for? The theatre or the criminology and investigation?" Miles asked only partially sarcastically.

"Neither. The law one."

"Law?" Miles raised an eyebrow. _I suppose it is entirely possible that he studied law . . ._

"Then where are all these degrees? They never showed up in your records. Only the Liberal Arts one did." Gregory retorted.

"Ah. Looking up cross-continental documentation isn't very easy. The Liberal Arts one would be easier to find, though. Just sayin'. Was a different school and less risk material; less security. You gotta prove who you are to get the others for confidentiality sake." Phoenix said. Miles thought it sounded plausible, at the very least. "In fact, when people DO look me up, that's the first thing they notice. 'Oh, he's just a theatre kid – nothing too worrying about that!' . . . I'm pretty unassuming this way."

_Unassuming? You've been flagged as a criminal by both my Father and the police. In what world is that unassuming? _

"Phoenix," Miles said, "So, you are claiming that you studied theatre, criminology, crime scene investigations, and law?"

"That is what I am claiming, yes."

"That is why Chief Skye contracted you?" Miles followed up.

"Yes. I have a skillset that she decided she could use."

"Let us see that contract again." Miles requested. Phoenix handed the document over and Miles read the date. "Phoenix. This is tiring. You and Lana created this agreement on December 12th, 2015."

"Yeah. Sounds about right." Phoenix nodded.

". . . But you have allegedly been here since April 2015? What were you doing between April and December of last year?" Miles asked.

"I was on a different job then." Phoenix said, "The one I came to the States for."

"Do you have documentation for this 'job'?" Miles asked.

"Do you know who else has a 'hidden job' from April to December of last year?" Phoenix chuckled. "I do have a contract for that timeline. It's in French, though."

_French? Father said that Verrier's employment records were restricted . . ._

"Enough of this, Phoenix." Gregory cut in, "I do not believe you. You have nothing to prove that you were here starting from April of last year."

_Oh. Oh. You have got to be joking . . ._

"Objection!" Phoenix called out. "Hehe. That's what you attorneys always call out, right? Kinda fun."

_Whenever asked about his relationship to Verrier, he laughed it off. _

"Do you have a reason to say that, or are you shouting for the sake of it?" Gregory asked.

_Every time it is brought up, Phoenix never made an established connection to just who that 'Gervais Verrier' was to him._

"I do have an objection, actually. I apologize in advance, Mr. Edgeworth, but you are incorrect. I am now prepared to issue my counterargument."

_We made an assumption. I know what that assumption is._

"Counterargument?" Gregory asked.

"Yes. I do have proof I was here in April." Phoenix said.

"And I know exactly what you're about to say." Miles smiled, ready to expose his inconsistency. "I am on to you at last, Wright."

"Oh, boy. This oughta be good!" Phoenix rested against the wall, "By all means, go for it."

"The timeline between you and Gervais Verrier is similar to a fault; they aren't so much as identical, as they are symmetrical. You have no record of moving here in April, but Verrier does. You do not have an employment record, but Verrier does – only it is sealed, starting in April and ending in December. Where you were issued another ID for the states and rented an apartment, contracted to collect information on Bluecorp for the chief prosecutor. That is also when Verrier's records became unrestricted and his employment at Bluecorp also began. It is all so very suspicious. It's almost as if . . . you are Gervais."

"Wouldn't that be something?" Phoenix suppressed another laugh.

"You are, aren't you? That's the inconsistency you were talking about earlier. You provided a safe space under a name that White would not recognize and then used your alias, Gervais Verrier, to continue espionage at Bluecorp. That's the truth behind this last year and a half, isn't it?"

Phoenix pulled out his wallet and handed the Edgeworths four ID's. Phoenix Wright in French, Phoenix Wright in English, Gervais Verrier in French, and finally Gervais Verrier in English.

"You got me." Phoenix laughed but restrained it, holding in his amusement. "A little mistaken identity. Or a double one."

"This is ludicrous. Okay. So, you were here in April under an alias. But that does present another issue, Mr. Wright." Gregory said.

"Why do I have a fake name in the first place, right?" Phoenix laughed, "Usually an identity fraud like this would be a pretty hefty crime. Except, this was sanctioned."

"By whom? The Chief Prosecutor?" Gregory demanded.

". . . I think this should clear that up." Phoenix handed over a contract written in French and signed by Phoenix Wright with alias confirmation. Though Gregory could not read it, he noticed the insignia on the contract. Phoenix asked, "Well?"

"INTERPOL." Gregory said. "You are with INTERPOL."

"INTERPOL?" Miles didn't see that one coming, ". . .You are an international agent, then?"

"Nothing quite that fanciful. I get contracted regularly, though. Steady income. Good income. Anyway, my dual citizenship made me especially useful for that case. I just hope neither of you can read, or else I breached that contract by disclosing it to you."

The tension ceased and Gregory asked, "Why did you not just say so to begin with? Why go through this hassle?"

"A lot of what I am doing here is confidential. I wasn't sure where to draw the line at. I also needed to know what you knew, and this was about the best way to air everything out. If I just out and said it, would you have believed me?"

"No." Miles acknowledged, "You're too farfetched to be real."

"Ouch. But, yeah. Most of my employment records are sealed because a lot of my work is confidential. INTERPOL especially doesn't care to have their employee's data leaked."

"And that is why Ray had a hard time transferring it." Gregory nodded, "Given the context, this is starting to make a lot of sense."

"Does that mean White is an international threat?" Miles asked.

"No. Not really. Not yet, I guess. Give him time and I'm sure he'll make the cut, though. He just happened to come across in my first job. That's . . . a bit of a long story and most of it is classified. White's fair game, though."

"What to you mean by fair game?" Gregory asked.

"Anything you ask about White, I can answer to the best of my capabilities."

"How does Bluecorp end up in the crossfires of an international investigation?" Miles asked.

Phoenix drooped his head and sighed. "And you straight up ask something that borderline reaches into that deep, dark pit that is confidentiality land. Are you always this difficult?"

"Difficult?" Miles was taken aback by that, "_I am _the difficult one?"

"Uh. Yeah. You."

"Hold on a moment." Gregory interrupted their bickering.

"Do you still have your doubts, Mr. Edgeworth?" Phoenix asked.

"What do you do for a living? I do not believe you ever said . . ."

"Oh. Yeah. Detective work, mostly . . ."

"You claimed your job was similar to the Frosts', but you are now saying you are a detective?" Gregory asked.

"A private one. Yeah. I typically take jobs that I want and without too much police interference if I don't care for that hassle. I have my detective stuff with me too." Phoenix revealed a French badge.

"Hmm. I see." Gregory took that all in for a moment.

"I want some clarification as well." Miles said, "The detectives and the prosecutors normally work cases together. Does that mean you are Chief Prosecutor's detective in the investigation against White?"

"The investigation is non-official and falls in the PI scope. But, normally, in this backwards country, the detectives are forced to submit to the prosecution's will. I don't play that game. I share who I want to share with before officially submitting to the courts. And it will not be the people who are primarily protecting White."

"That is very illegal." Miles pointed out.

"Not in most other countries. That's a debate for later, though. As one who normally presents an opening argument, I can tell you what they will argue tomorrow and give insight on the evidence the prosecution will likely use. I understand that being a detective doesn't automatically clear me, but I can at least explain the key points of this case and you can decide for yourselves."

"You have been in court as the lead detective," Gregory acknowledged, "So you do have experience in that regard."

"Yeah. I've been to court lots of times. I am very familiar with how they operate." Phoenix nodded.

Gregory noticed how much time passed since this began and asked, "Why have the police not followed up? I would have suspected they would be here by now."

"That just means we have a little more time to discuss. Let me show you something." Phoenix pulled out a few things from the binder – an autopsy report and notes on the murder weapon.

"Where did you get this?" Gregory asked.

"The crime scene. I just put on my hat and showed that one detective my badge – he didn't suspect a thing!" Phoenix laughed, taking the beanie out from his coat's inner pocket.

"You! You just walked on to the –" Miles was done with Phoenix.

"I can't help that bluffing works, okay? I was either going to get got and taken in, or my little deceit would pan out and I'd get some answer about the crime scene. You're welcome, by the way." Phoenix defended himself with a cheeky smile. That badge: It was French, and the badge design differed from the State's. Anyone in law enforcement should have been able to recognize the difference. It was enough to fool the detective – likely Gumshoe – and made Miles worry about the state of the precinct.

"We cannot use these, can we?" Miles asked, noting that they were now in possession of illegally obtained evidence.

"Nah. You aren't presenting it, right?" Phoenix said, "That lead detective will at the start, so you'll never have to prove _when _you obtained such information. A little prior knowledge never hurt anyone!"

"If you are innocent, Phoenix, both you and Miles are going through the same safety training. This is absurd." Gregory said. Miles flinched, thinking about two hours of stale acting and mentally cursed Phoenix.

". . . Oops. Sorry." Phoenix flashed a disingenuous grin. Miles avoided acknowledging punishment worse than death but glared at Phoenix all the same.

"Our little fugitive is a sneaky detective, huh?" Raymond came in – eavesdropping again, apparently.

Phoenix eyed this new person and said, "I don't think we've met before."

"Raymond Shields."

"Ah. Phoenix Wright." Neither man offered their hand in amiability.

"I seemed to have put in all that legwork for nothing, eh?" He leaned against the doorframe, "Oh, don't mind me. I'm just gonna watch your next performance a little closer."

There was something about the way Shields and Wright examined each other, mentally measuring the other, that made Miles suspect those two would clash. Miles felt a previously (recently) established control starting to slip away in the chasms of teeming and conflicting chaotic energy.

Miles and Gregory examined the paperwork that Phoenix provided (illegally?) and prepared for the next wave of information to be investigated. They would participate in a mock trial and Phoenix would lead it as though he were the opposing side. Miles doubted if it would be useful, considering Phoenix couldn't possibly be all the ready to throw himself in a negative light. But, it was a way to establish the reports in argument, so to that end, they would all participate in the mock trial to come.


	16. A Brief Recess

Summary:

Phoenix, Miles, and Larry have a chance to catchup while Raymond reads the report.

Phoenix explains more about his first contract.

A Brief Recess

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 8:56 PM

**Autopsy:**

Victim : Fiona Frost

Age : 23

Cause of Death : Blunt force trauma to the back of the head.

Approximated Time of Death : August 10th, 2016. Between 5:00 PM and 6:30 PM

Notes : Strength from blow severe enough to cause pressure bleeding. Death was instantaneous from single blow.

Additional notes: bruising from where she fell postmortem on her face and arms.

**Murder Weapon:**

Metal rod : Blood found on one end.

_Forensics doing additional testing for fingerprints and blood tests. Updated autopsy and weapon report pending._

A picture of the rod was included, and with it, a serial number and a brief description of its construction and dimensions were provided. It was perfectly normal looking rod covered with blood on only one end. A second picture conveyed the victim and the rod's original placement – Fiona laid face first, gruesome wound exposed, and arm stretching toward the kitchen with the murder weapon carelessly dropped parallel to her. The blood on the tip is consistently lined up with Fiona's hand.

". . . Based on this report, it does seem that one thing is clear. White is a very careless man." Miles said. Gregory wondered about that, though, and handed the report to Raymond.

"Careless?" Phoenix nodded, "Yes. That is true. He's made some mistakes, alright. But you'll have to be the one who catches him. He quashed me pretty completely."

"And do you have anything to add to this report?" Miles asked.

"Sure. I'll give my pitch on that. Whenever you are ready."

"Just a moment." Gregory said. "I want us all to be on the same page now."

"Okay." Phoenix agreed, seeming more and more relaxed as the night carried on.

"Now would be a good time to ask questions that do not directly tie in with the case." Gregory verbally nudged Miles. Phoenix . . . he was central to this incident and the events that led up to it.

"I know I asked already, but why have you stayed silent since last April?" Miles repeated the question, still wondering how Phoenix moved from INTERPOL to PI in a matter of months. "Is it due to that original contract?"

Phoenix gave a more in-depth explanation than before. "Yeah. Simply, I didn't want to get anyone dragged into that mess. It's dangerous and criminals like to use people as literal human bargaining chips and meat shields. Some people forget, for whatever reason, that crime lords are crime lords because they don't feel remorse when using people as cover."

"Crime lords, huh?" Miles imagined what cases Phoenix worked on in the past. With his fearless escape from White, Miles formed an image of what kind of life Phoenix led, and all the dangers it produced.

"The same criminals that would travel from country to country, I take it." Gregory stated, "That is why your work history jumps from place to place. Once we have more time, we should go over that work history of yours . . ."

Phoenix remained agreeable. "Anything you'd like, Mr. Edgeworth. I don't always use an alias, but I requested one since I was coming home. I didn't want to assume too much of anything considering you guys. It's not like I have much family, so it would be just you. It's been thirteen years since we last saw each other. I wasn't all that sure you'd even have cared to see me again. Especially not after what happened."

"Do not be absurd, Wright. You were impossible to reach, otherwise I would have sought you out sooner. The only way you could have known my answer is if you were willing to ask." Miles retorted.

"Oh?" Phoenix played with his necklace again. "True. I still didn't want to risk dragging any of you in. if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be in this mess, either. But, I suppose it's worth asking, Miles . . . You were trying to contact me?"

Miles realized he made a slight miscalculation. He did not want to come across as overstepping into another person's boundaries compulsorily, but he did have an interest in seeing Phoenix again. "I, of course, did not know how. And left it at that."

Larry piped in with, "Weren't you using that software to look him up? Couldn't find you through that thing or social media, and stuff, for years, though."

"Years?" Phoenix put his non-gimp hand over his mouth.

"Larry! Ignore him. That is far from what happened." Miles denied it all.

"Hmm." Gregory went to clean his glasses, staying decidedly out of the conversation.

"You were looking for me? . . . For years?" Phoenix asked more directly.

"I may have used some of my resources to see how you fared all these years. It was out of concern."

"He did jump right out the door when he finally found something, though." Larry recounted, much to Miles' revulsion at being outed like that.

"Oh." Phoenix went awfully silent.

_Oh, no. He must think I am some sort of debauched delinquent now. _"I – I never – I had no intentions on _prying _into your affairs if that was truly what you desired. I simply wanted to know, for myself, that you were doing well."

"Kinda obsessive, now that I think about it." Larry thought while Miles was trying to hide the fact that he might have been a stalker this last week. This had not been a great week, by any means.

"I was worried! That's all." Miles could feel his body temperature surge in embarrassment.

"Ahh. Mmm." Phoenix covered his mouth and surpassed a squeal. He glowed with delight, blushing in warm flattery. He then cheered, "MmmHmm! Wow! Okay, then!"

_Why is he PLEASED of all things? _Miles had to change the direction of this discourse, and fast, if he wanted to save face. "It . . . it really was not anything to fuss about. We should return to the case."

"I am so sorry, Miles! I had no idea! If I knew that you really wanted to see me again that badly, I'd have definitely reached out. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll even make it easy for you to contact me from now on, okay?"

"Ngh. . ." Miles folded his arms and pressed his wrists deeply into his chest. _Why is he so gleeful about this?_

"I was debating on keeping that house or moving back. Kinda tired of France, but I'm used to it. I think I'm gonna stay here, though. Worse legal system, but better company." Phoenix rambled.

"Worse legal system?" Miles asked in a reserved voice. He was still reeling.

"Ah! I know! you should come to see European trials with me. Like, a vacation."

"What kind of vacation is that?" Larry wrinkled his nose at the thought.

"The kind that Miles would enjoy. We can bring sheets, rank systems, and be the judges this time! It would be fun!"

_. . . Actually, I do want to try that, now that he has given me the suggestion . . ._

"Uh, no, that's lame!" Larry still argued.

"Mmm. Remind me, Lar-bear. What's your highest level of education?" Phoenix asked.

". . . Uh. Never call me that again, bro."

Phoenix laughed, "Though so! Grown-ups are talkin', young Butz."

"At least my vacations ain't stupid lame!"

"They say to do what you love. A study abroad could only enhance our careers, right? A dissertation on the varied systems of the modern world." Phoenix flipped through his binder and handed Miles a grading rubric – this was not an idea Phoenix had on the spot; rather, it was something he planned. And _worst yet_, that plan would be absolutely ideal for his graduation thesis. Miles sensed something underhanded again.

"This isn't half bad." Miles tried not to compliment it too much as he read it over. The categories accounted for a range of different law types and for personal comments on which aspects work better than others. Rank 1 to 5, low to high, and thoughts on the approach. ". . . Might need some tuning."

"I live for that kind of praise! Well, that's settled. When we going?"

"What has been settled? I have yet to agree to travel abroad with you. And, is it not presumptuous to assume that I would both say yes and that you would be acquitted in this upcoming trial? Need I remind you that you are still a prime suspect in a murder case?"

"You're absolutely right. Or, at least you will be. Anyhoo, I was talking about my life plans. I will end my fake names – was gonna do that anyway – buy that property proper under the one true name – live here and continue work. I'm good with the negative setbacks for an overwhelming positive change."

"That is all well and good, Wright, but you are still a murder suspect." Miles echoed his earlier sentiment.

"That's what you're for! Bailing me out every time someone decides to accuse me of murder. As if that doesn't get stale."

"Every time, Wright?" Miles asked. Raymond snorted, looking up from the report, though he offered nothing in dialogue. Miles and Gregory shared a prominent look of confusion – _Why did Ray find that funny? _Come to think of it, was Ray not looking into Phoenix's past?

"A house and a career, back home. Maybe a partner, a dog, and some adopted children. Yeah. Normal life goals for a change." Phoenix ignored Miles but kept egging him on.

"Why would your hypothetical children be adopted?"

"Adopted children deserve love, too, Miles."

_There is something rather ominous about the way he is smiling. I think I have had my fill on this pointless diatribe._ "Phoenix. You rented that house under your alias?"

"Yup. Complete my cover and all that. Didn't feel like sharing proximity with my coworkers and tussled with the idea of moving back home; so this is my work around both. Why?"

"So, you are the responsible party behind those atrocious lawn ornaments?"

"Oh. Shots fires, Miles. I think we're gonna just have to agree to disagree here."

"It is not even mid-August! Why are those abominations out on full display, assaulting people out of season?"

"They're my surveillance system."

"Get a normal system like 90% of suburban America!"

"That's boring." Phoenix pouted. "Hey, Larry. Wanna see Miles stare down zombies?"

"No, he does not! How have your neighbors not reported you for disturbance of the peace?"

"Actually, I do!" Larry and Phoenix shared a horrifying hivemind at times.

"I'll show you later. I think I got enough footage for a home movie experience. A silent film where a man can stare down the paranormal and send them back to the abyss with the ice-cold glare. Just need someone to work in the CGI. Know of anyone?"

"You had better not." Miles warned.

Phoenix said, "We'll talk about it. Oh. As far as my neighbors go, I mow their lawns, host events, and won 'Best Haunted House' last year. I even help Miss Oldbag with her groceries."

An unexplained chill ran down Miles' spin when he heard that name but could not pinpoint why. Little did he know that it was his subconscious picking up his alternate self's distain for the woman that prompted such a reaction.

Phoenix continued with, "I found Miss Oldbag fallen on the sidewalk once and helped her back to her house. I'm a real saint, according to her and my neighbors. In short, they love me."

"Do you fool a lot of people with this façade of yours?" Miles asked.

"Yes. You included." Phoenix smiled innocently at Miles, who could do little to deny it . . .

"So, is your house like, full on Halloween?" Larry asked.

"Yup. The kids like to set off the triggers all the time. I have to switch it up every now and again for 'em." Phoenix explained.

"That's so cool!" Larry gushed over the idea of having a haunted house setup year-round. Miles felt himself wanting to ask a question that he knew he shouldn't, but he did anyway, because he was a glutton for punishment.

"Are you not supposed to be working important contracts? Why are you wasting time with children's playthings?"

"Boredom. I don't have many friends. My coworkers are all weirdos, to boot, and I just don't fit in with that crowd."

_That is a trap. I see it on his face. Do not fall for it. Do not acknowledge it. Ignore it and he will move on to the next inane topic . . ._

"Alright, we should roll on to the next phase. Before our police friends show up." Raymond suggested, putting the report back on Gregory's desk. "Fugitive, tell us something . . ."

"Who, me?" Phoenix blinked, "Okay. What?"

in the plainest English you can muster and without stepping on your INTERPOL obligations to secrecy, what is the connection between the first contract you signed with INTERPOL and the contract you signed with Chief Skye." Ray requested.

"Ah." Phoenix put his hand on his hip and said, ". . . Money. Basically. We'll call my first contract job A. It has to do with an organization, which we will also refer to as organization A. Organization A paid Bluecorp a monthly fee of sorts. It was curious."

"Bluecorp blackmailed organization A?" Miles asked.

"No, it was more like – ah, shit. Larry . . . um . . . you know there is a new band that you might like. You got a pair of headphones?"

Phoenix set Larry up with some ear buzzing loud music. "Hey, Larry?" Phoenix asked after it was all set up, and Larry did not respond. The music drowned everything in the outside world. "Good. I don't mind telling you some of this, but Larry's got a habit of attracting the worst attention. I don't need him mouthing off to the wrong people."

"That is a wise decision." Gregory admitted. "You were researching money exchange between Bluecorp and organization A?"

"Yes. My finding out about Bluecorp was an accident, really . . . I found transactions in several different warehouses, all belonging to organization A, that all had regular payments to Bluecorp. Specifically, the legal division."

"Yes. You were about to explain why you thought it was not blackmail." Gregory reminded.

"There are key differences between the blackmail statements and the contractual agreements found in organization A. The wording was phrased as an exchange of money for a service. Whereas blackmail letters came in the form of threats – legal or otherwise. Pay or face repercussions."

"And the service that Bluecorp provided came from the legal division?" Miles asked.

"Yes. The services organization A paid for were defense attorneys and prosecutors, as well as detectives who would stall out our progress. In short, we could not get anything done with Bluecorp actively getting in job A's way. Evidence would mysteriously disappear before INTERPOL had clearance to act."

"Right, the States are not actually part of INTERPOL." Miles remembered learning that some time ago, "Since organization A is operating on our soil, that meant INTERPOL had to constantly receive permission to do anything."

"That is correct. Since INTERPOL is the foreign party here, the home law enforcement could have a field day falsifying anything useful before we had a chance to carry our own investigation out. Frustrating doesn't even begin to cover it."

Phoenix had an uncharacteristic amount of frown marks on his face – he started acting like a normal, jaded employee who had to deal with way too much work-related strain. It was strange, but also refreshing. He was not just a bag of overflowing energy and over-the-top antics.

Phoenix laughed in a sardonic way. "That is why I, being a natural citizen of this 'great' country, was sought out for this specifically. I could move around some of those pitfalls that others couldn't – I think they'd be forced back home if they tried half the crap I'm able to get away with."

Phoenix then admitted to something, "When I brought up the financial exchanges to INTERPOL, the State's government denied INTERPOL the authority to look into Bluecorp. It was deemed domestic and INTERPOL had no right to intervene. I told them where to stick it and we mutually decided that I should be dropped from job A. Technically, my contract with job A is null. Because I went after Bluecorp, anyway, but 'unofficially' I am still feeding them information."

"So, you are no longer contracted through INTERPOL?" Gregory asked.

"Not officially, but they're waiting for me to be viable again. In fact, I did pick up, _yet another case_, since being here for the sole reason I can get away with more things. Both – er, all? All are confidential by their nature."

"How many jobs are you working, Wright?" Miles asked.

"Too many, that's for sure. Anyway, that's the connection between job A and job B. Job C isn't even worth mentioning, because I only do that when so-and-so is stuck."

"So-and-so?" Miles asked.

"Team lead. Bit of a . . . dog?" Phoenix could not find a better way to express it.

"Jobs A, B, and C, huh?" Raymond said, "Quite the workload."

"Right? I haven't slept in over 70 hours. Probably because I've been trying to avoid being the next murdered from job B."

"Are you able to provide a summary of events?" Gregory asked, concerned about Phoenix's health. "If not, we can try to rehearse it tomorrow morning. That is, after we meet you in the detention center."

"No. I am fine. My life and Ruby's depend on us getting our arguments sorted. I believe we have enough here to fully discern the truth." Phoenix replied.

"You are still concerned about Ruby, then?" Miles wondered. _She could have been the one who took those pictures._

"I had some time to think about it. If things had gone according to my original plan, today I would have officially opened an investigation into White. No more hiding behind an alias. But White happened to learn of my move hours after I set it in motion. It couldn't have been coincidence – or so I thought."

"What do you mean by that?" Ray asked.

"White let it slip when I last spoke to him. An informant told him all about me . . . only someone who knew both my real name and the name Gervais Verrier could have told White about me. The people at Bluecorp only knew me as 'Verrier'; White called me 'Wright' intentionally to get my attention. He knew what I was doing and wanted to make sure I didn't succeed."

"You are accepting that one or both of the Frost sisters set you up?" Ray asked.

"Possibly. Ruby and Fiona knew both of my names. It is entirely possible that they told White about me." Phoenix reluctantly agreed.

Miles added. "That is what it seems like. Why did Ruby trust you, but not other law enforcement? I remember a few choice phrases from her that suggested she would never trust the police or detectives. Perhaps that is the reasoning behind those actions? Although, it does not excuse them."

"We never talked about personal lives. I was using other fake names to extract information into testimony. She knew that. What she didn't know is, despite her distrust of law enforcement, she ended up confiding in a detective. It'd be funnier if we weren't in this situation now."

"She never made those connections?" Gregory asked.

"No. If she did, she never brought it up. Ruby is primarily motivated by avenging her sister. I stuck around her so I could plan around her activities, not get caught unaware in her rash methods, and prevent her from getting her or me killed. It's similar to why I couldn't let either one of you recognize me at Bluecorp. My identity and life were at risk."

"Is it possible that Larry or I accidently exposed you?" Miles asked, exploring all possibilities.

"No. I made sure that didn't happen and took time to keep Bluecorp from retaliating against you. Part of my job is reducing risk. I don't like hearing news of people under my watch getting killed. It really, really frustrates me that this has gotten so bad in only a matter of hours. . . . Although . . ." Phoenix closed his eyes, talking in hushed whispers to himself.

"What is it?" Miles asked.

". . . I think I know all the reasons why Ruby wouldn't go to White, of all people, to sell me out. I don't know about Fiona. I will put some more thought into it. That's all I can do at this point."

"What, do you think she got what was coming to her?" Ray asked, "You do realize that if she did sell you out, that gives you all the more reason to want her dead."

"I don't think that action warranted death, so don't put words in my mouth. What I'm saying is this: Ruby hated White. Fiona wanted nothing to do with the whole thing, though. Ask Ruby tomorrow for confirmation on that, if you must. If Fiona thought she could end this and have her life back by sabotaging mine, she might've done that. People have done a lot worse for a lot less." Phoenix said.

"Do you think Fiona negotiated with White in order to save herself and Ruby?" Miles asked.

"It's entirely possible. It would mean that, despite her trying to appease White, he still killed her when the opportunity arose. Or he mistook Fiona for Ruby. Either way, it worked in his favor to silence the Frosts. You can't deny _that _as a motive, either, before you oppose." Phoenix directed that last line to Shields, who had yet to add in a counter – but looked like he was about to.

As Miles thought, Phoenix and Ray seemed to conflict; but underneath that hostility, each had a hidden smirk. What might appear as two men in open hostility was actually two men sharpening their skills preemptively before the proper mock trial began. Something about the way Phoenix presented himself now was more alluring than the extremely irritating version Miles witnessed all night. It was a welcomed change of pace, for once.

"I, for one, am not accusing you of anything, Phoenix." Miles reassured.

"Thank you. Someone's sensible, at least."

"We are all sensible, Mr. Wright." Gregory said, becoming impersonal as the truth that Phoenix attested to would be shortly verified. "Raymond and I will be listening thoroughly. We will raise our own objections and opinions, as well as questions and observations as they come forth."

"I understand, Mr. Edgeworth. I am ready to give my presentation. I want to let you know that I will be giving it as the prosecutor and the lead detective would give it. That is my only warning." Phoenix retrieved the documentation and left any smiling features behind. His face went as stoic as Gregory's did. It was a look that did not quite fit Phoenix in any context that Miles had seen previously; a purposefully, distant persona. Phoenix transitioned the room quite suddenly with an aura that Miles could not explain, but understood it as a necessity to the next phase in learning how all these pieces fit together.

Notes:

I would just like to point out that cannon's Miles would probably have reacted negatively to Phoenix's obsessive stalking (I can't remember, but I don't think Edgeworth was impressed or just ignored it as something odd). While Phoenix, with the roles reversed, is flattered by it. Then goes to change his entire life plan to revolve around Miles - which is making this AU loop back into cannon. Fun times.


	17. The Swinging Pendulum and the Hanging Ma

Summary:

An overview of the murder - discerning the truth.

Notes:

Be forewarned: Another long chapter awaits.

The Swinging Pendulum and the Hanging Man

Thursday August 11th 2016 – 9:34 PM

"The facts of the case as we know them. For several days, there have been numerous complaints of two women arguing in and around 3C – the unit where the murder ultimately occurred. Residents of the complex noted that the two women, identified as Ruby and Fiona by their descriptions, were in disagreement. The noise complaints started last week; the first on Thursday August 4th and then over the next few days: Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. The 5th, 6th, and 7th.

"On Monday and Tuesday 8th and 9th, the landlord followed up on numerous complaints, but the arguments had already deescalated by then and the sisters were seen casually talking. Wednesday the 10th, the day of the murder, multiple residents called on a loud noise, unprompted, during the afternoon, around 2:30 PM. The police did a wellness check and found Fiona by herself . . . stating that she had tripped and fell, and that the noise was just a 'simple mistake'. From 2:30 PM to 3:00 PM, Fiona was last seen alive and well.

"The next round of complaints came at around 6:10 PM. Someone aggressively broke the door down. Fiona screamed. And the neighbors heard an altercation, with several thumps. The call came in from their next-door neighbor, Mrs. Yogi, who locked her door and isolated herself and her husband in the bathroom until the police arrived.

"The police found Ruby Frost over her sister's body. She did not say anything during the arrest, but there is enough probable cause to determine her guilt. Ruby and Fiona Frost were arguing all week. Due to high tensions and Ruby Frost's arrest at the apartments, we can conclude that Ruby Frost took the life of Fiona."

"I see you are conveniently leaving out your own involvement." Raymond commented once Phoenix concluded.

"Oh. You are correct. The apartment was leased to Phoenix Wright and neither Frost sister were included on it. Is that better?" Phoenix added.

"Make sure you add all those details," Ray winked, "Wouldn't want to think you were trying to pull a fast one, huh?"

"Fair point. Any other issues?" Phoenix asked.

"The person who broke the front door. Did anyone get a good look at him?" Miles asked.

"Him? Where did a male suspect come into question? No. No one saw her break down the door. None of the witnesses – the residents – saw who broke down the door. Conflicting reports suggest that it sounded more like a man's heavy footsteps, but . . . that's mostly just conjecture at this point, wouldn't you agree?"

"If it could have been a man, then would that not excuse Ruby's presence as solely a sister in shock and point the murderer as someone else?" Miles retorted.

"True. The perpetrator could have been the one who signed the lease."

"'Singed the lease'? Phoenix, you know that I am talking about White." Miles pushed.

"White? Who is White? No resident or employee of that complex has the name White. Are you sure you aren't mistaken?" Phoenix said.

". . . White. There is no way to tie him to this murder at this time." Gregory said, "That is what Phoenix is saying. He is playing his role rather well . . ."

_Yes. Of course. If this were a true court scenario, the prosecution would deny it in a heartbeat. I need to find a way to discredit this proposal as I normally do._

"Haha!" Raymond laughed, "Oh boy! I guess we're gonna get something good from this after all!"

Phoenix didn't react. Miles thought it through and remembered that he also heard about the noise complaints from the landlord. It was significant enough to be brought in as motive, so he started there. "Can you be more specific about the arguments between Ruby and Fiona?"

"No. The witnesses never went into full detail on what they heard. Just that they screamed at each other intensely." Phoenix answered.

"And do you know anything beyond what witnesses may or may not have understood? You are their partner, Wright. Can you shed more light on the cause of that tension?"

". . . No. I don't know why they were fighting. But you are wrong about one thing – I am only Ruby's partner."

"Oh?" Miles looked at him more closely, "But both of them stayed at that residence. You only worked with Ruby, though?"

Gregory went on his computer while they were discussing Ruby and Fiona. Phoenix shrugged, "Fiona wanted nothing to do with Bluecorp. If they were arguing, it may have been about that. It may have been unrelated. I do not know. I have not been at the apartment since the end of last month."

"Last month? So, July?"

"30th or so." Phoenix nodded.

"Why is that?" Miles wondered.

"Ruby requested privacy. I was preparing my official investigation into Bluecorp, so I had no real reason to return to that location – it's been paid through December, anyway. If she had reason to use it, I was not going to get in her way."

Miles asked, "If you weren't meeting her at that apartment, then where did you meet her?"

"At the local pancake house."

"Did you develop film elsewhere?"

"Does it matter?" Phoenix shook his head, "I really don't see where you're trying to go with this. If it does, for some reason, matter to you – then yes. at the house there is a darkroom. But I usually prefer digital anymore."

"Consistency, Wright. You and Ruby are partners, but you had not been at the one place reserved for the two of you to utilize for Bluecorp. I wanted to know why." Miles clarified his reasoning.

"It was at Ruby's request. She didn't say why, and I didn't ask."

_This is not gaining any traction forward. It seems to me that when Wright wanted to start his official investigation, he also wanted to cut ties with the Frosts. . . . No. He wouldn't kill one of them to achieve that goal . . ._

"Oh. I should have checked this sooner." Gregory said, "Phoenix. When did Fiona return to the city? It says she moved 2 hours north in January 2016 – a fact that I did not catch before. You said she did not want to be involved with Bluecorp, so she moved away? When is the last time you saw her?"

". . . She moved in January. And I had not seen her since."

"Then when Ruby asked you for privacy, could that have been when Fiona returned?" Gregory asked.

Miles said, "The landlord did not recognize Fiona. I remember him saying that."

"And Ruby did not tell me Fiona was back." Phoenix nodded, "It is a bit odd."

"Why didn't you clarify that sooner?" Raymond asked.

"I wasn't sure if the prosecution knows about that. They probably will by tomorrow, but I want you to piece this all together. After all, I don't want you to think that I'm manipulating you to believe what I want you to believe."

"Touché. You're saying that you had no idea that Fiona was staying at your apartment?" Raymond asked.

"Yeah. That's why I am beginning to suspect that Fiona is the one who told White about me. If White managed to kill me and caused enough of a scare in Ruby, Fiona hoped that would be enough to intimidate Ruby into hiding with her. It's a theory, but . . . it does sound like a play that Fiona would use."

Raymond questioned, "You believe that girl would do something like that?"

"Either she or Ruby took pictures of me. There was some ill intent behind that move. As it stands now: Fiona came back home, probably around August 1st. I stayed clear of the apartments by Ruby's request. Around Thursday August 4th the sisters began to argue through the weekend."

Raymond continued to interrogate, "How do we know that you are true to your word? You say that you stayed away but it's also possible that you found out Fiona came home and planned a move against her – for having those photographs of you."

"Then link me to the murder, if that's your belief. I gave you the facts earlier– extract where I killed Fiona and you might have a case."

Raymond whistled, "You've got some guts, that's for sure. All right. If these other residents heard male sounding footsteps, wouldn't you qualify?" Raymond pointed out.

"Oh, sure. Definitely. I am a suspect. I have male feet. So that puts me there, definitively. Or, really, it doesn't. it could have been you, with as little as that fact tells us. Or it could have been another resident bring up his groceries." Phoenix shrugged, "Unfortunately, you'll have to do a little better than that to take the heat off of Ruby and onto someone else."

_Off of one suspect and onto another. I believe he has told Fiona about that strategy._

"Is this all you got? I'm severely underwhelmed . . ." Phoenix taunted.

"And how do we know you aren't making up things? These testimonies especially?" Raymond challenged.

"Here." Phoenix handed over the testimonies from his neighbors; Phoenix succinctly paraphrased what each record contained and did not lie about anything. The only testimony not here, however, belonged to Yanni Yogi.

"There is one missing." Miles said.

"If there is, that is due to negligence on the precinct's part. This is what I collected from there."

"Oh, of course. We deduced that they would eliminate Mr. Yogi's testimony on princip – Wait, the precinct? I thought you tricked the detective at the crime scene into handing over reports?" Miles crossed his arms.

"Oh, I did at both places."

". . . Both? You did that same bluff _twice_? And it _worked twice?_" _Does the precinct hire nothing but buffoons!?_

"Yup. I walked straight into the precinct and told them – what did I tell them? Oh, right! That Chief Skye needed a copy of all the updated reports and that I'd give it to her. I showed them my credentials and everything, so don't worry."

"You walked in the precinct, filled with detectives, police, and possibly prosecutors, _and not one of them recognized you as a suspect?_" Miles could not fathom the mental image that gave him.

"Not my fault that it works, Miles. Put on a hat and all of a sudden, you're a different person! Tada! Hahaha!"

"That is – I have no words for what that is."

"Save it for later. Or are you saying you're done? We keep getting sidetracked. Right this moment, Ruby is still the primary suspect, then I am. The murder itself has not been addressed. You have that report, yes?"

**Autopsy:**

Victim : Fiona Frost

Age : 23

Cause of Death : Blunt force trauma to the back of the head.

Approximated Time of Death : August 10th, 2016. Between 5:00 PM and 6:30 PM

Notes : Strength from blow severe enough to cause pressure bleeding. Death was instantaneous from single blow.

Additional notes: bruising from where she fell postmortem on her face and arms.

**Murder Weapon:**

Metal rod : Blood found on one end.

_Forensics doing additional testing for fingerprints and blood tests. Updated autopsy and weapon report pending._

Phoenix said, "After breaking down the door, the perpetrator attacked Fiona in the first room and struck her down. A single blow was enough to kill her on impact. The murder weapon was also found next to Fiona, where Ruby was found, crouched over on her arrest."

"This report is not complete," Miles said, "Who's fingerprints were found on the murder weapon?"

"Hah!" Phoenix laughed, "Hahaha! Oh, so you wanna know that, do you? You fell for the oldest trick, I just want you to know that."

"Phoenix?" Miles narrowed his eyes. _What is with that reaction?_

"Yes. I did pull an additional, updated report on the weapon. A full weapon's analysis shows that there are several sets of fingerprints on the rod – but they all belong to one person."

_Several sets of the same fingerprints? _Miles hesitated to ask, but he did anyway, "Who's fingerprints were found on the weapon?"

"Mine." Phoenix smiled haughtily.

"Yours!?" Miles expected that answer, but the way Phoenix acted only added to his anxiety. _Why is he so . . . cheerful about that?_

"Ah. So it was a trap." Gregory sighed into his hands. _A trap?_

"So, there is a way to link you to the murder." Ray said, "You had better have a good reason for that."

". . . Oh. I am not the one who needs a reason. You see, I bought that rod – it was my possession. Meaning, my fingerprints were supposed to be on them, really."

"That wouldn't fly in court and you know it." Raymond warned.

"True. I suppose I should also tell you here, before we move on, that on Ruby's person was a set of keys, her gun, and gloves. Knowing that, let me propose this: Who would benefit from _not _wiping down the murder weapon, found in my apartment, and then could theoretically try to play it off as _I killed her since my fingerprints were on the weapon_,but not hers?"

"Ah. Ruby . . ." Raymond shook his head.

"Exactly. When that weapon is presented with my fingerprints, but Ruby is the one who is on trial, who do you think the Judge would look to for answers?"

"The prosecution, of course." Miles answered, "If the murder weapon conflicted with the person accused, a reason would need to be brought forward. And you just explained it . . . Ruby wore gloves, but she was near the weapon, so that still makes her a suspect."

"But it also makes you a suspect," Raymond said, "You called Ruby, right? You could have known she would drive back and set her up accordingly."

"Assuming she was not home that evening to begin with. It's inconvenient, no matter which way you argue it." Phoenix rebutted.

"She did say she was out on a job." Miles frowned.

"Then that means that both are valid arguments against Ruby and me, but conflicting when trying to frame us both as a team act. The narrative gets convoluted because there is no clear focus on who murdered Frost – especially from the prosecution's seat."

". . . And so they are going after Ruby first." Miles closed his eyes. "Why would White – the perpetrator, I mean, not wipe down the weapon?"

". . . I don't know. Why do you think?" Phoenix asked.

"Time restriction? This entire series of events happened quickly – even the news was quick on it, so he had to leave." Miles reasoned.

"That would imply that the perpetrator left immediately. Ruby was there on her arrest. She could have wiped down the weapon if she had struck her sister down and refused to leave. She did not, though. Because she came to the apartments in fear for Fiona's wellbeing – and could not move due to shock of discovering the body."

"She then hoped whoever killed her would show up on the weapon." Miles nodded, "Did the blood on the rod belong to Fiona?"

"It did. Whoever struck Fiona down was wearing gloves . . . or it was hypothetically me, because why would I care at that point? Or maybe I was also wearing gloves?" Phoenix showed him a picture of the fingerprint placement. They were found all over the rod, so even if it was wielded as a weapon, it was undeterminable.

Gregory added, "White would have no reason to wipe the rod down, because of a similar reasoning from before. He was sure that his own prints would not be discovered, but someone else's could have been."

"This adds another layer of complication," Ray sighed. "Well, fugitive. You got a special take on it that we haven't seen? It's your hide on the line, after all."

"I hired attorneys for a reason. How should I know?" Phoenix laughed.

"You think you're cute, huh? Detective?" Raymond raised an eyebrow.

"Hmm. Well. It's a shame that you're only seeing that rod through a photo." Phoenix stated.

"Right. Part of the problem we face currently is that we do not have the full evidence to examine, or the witnesses to question." Miles agreed.

Phoenix reached into his beltloop and showed them another rod. Ray was a bit defensive, but Miles knew it was on him – that fact had been on the back of his mind through this entire session. "That rod has a serial code on it, right? An identifier of sorts. If you looked that code up, it would describe it as an 'alloy composite' – meaning, it is a mixture of materials."

Phoenix held it to the side, where there was nothing in his way, and clicked a button. The rod extended to its full length, exposing one rod hidden within the other. Then he popped and unscrewed it, separating the two rods. "I keep this one around to pull down the rope ladder to the fire escape. It's useful for other things around the yard, too. But, this rod should match your murder weapon."

"It's hollow." Miles said before he even touched it, learning that when Phoenix expanded it. Once he held it, Miles noticed it was lightweight as well. It was not a solid rod, nor was it even fully metal. There was a layer of sheen on it, giving it the illusion of wholly metallic, but the rod was not very sturdy. Its composition was closer to a plastic composite.

"There is no way something like this would kill another. Not in one swing and definitely not to that severity." Miles claimed.

"You think?" Phoenix shrugged, "Even if it could, there's something else conflicting about the supposed 'murder weapon'. Look at the picture again and compare it to the rod in your hand. Picture yourself swinging it with enough force to burst someone's head in. What state would you think that rod should be in after that?"

"It would be dented." Miles said.

"At least. You know, I did have to buy a few spares. I dropped it and it pinched itself shut on one end. I could not get it to collapse into itself after that. But, you are right," Phoenix held out the half he carried and slapped it against his knee. His half gave way, bending into a 'U' shape instantly, then he wore it on his wrist like a bracelet. "If I were to use this against someone's skull and cause pressure bleeding, the rod would end up looking like this or much worse. It would not survive the collision, either."

Miles looked at the picture again. It was way to straight and polished for that treatment. "This isn't the murder weapon, then." Miles nodded. _It could not be. Someone planted the blood on the rod to make it all the more convincing. On a closer inspection, the rod does not withstand inspection._

"Well, so much for tying me to the murder, eh?" He said to Shields, who then took it as a challenge. Phoenix asked, "So, the next obvious question should follow:"

"What is the actual murder weapon?" Miles completed the thought.

"The police force examined the entire complex, including the dumpsters and the outside areas. Nothing else came up that resembled another murder weapon. So, it was either taken from the murder site. Or, it was brought with the perpetrator and also removed on his exit."

"Oh, I can totally see that, Fugitive." Ray said, "Something like, say, a fist on an arm? That would definitely have to go with the suspect when he retreated."

"Oh, you!" Phoenix exclaimed, "You are so much fun to argue with! Yes, of course! A fist! That would fit the scenario perfectly. To a T, even!"

"Yeah. It would. And your cast screams a song. Wanna hear it?" Ray goaded.

Larry's playlist must have ended because he said, "You weren't wearing a cast when I saw you yesterday."

"Nope, sure wasn't." Phoenix nodded.

"Ah. So it happened after 3:00 PM, then? Suspicious." Raymond said.

"It did! You're right!"

"WRIGHT! Do you have enough rope to hang yourself with, or should I bring you more!?" Miles asked. _Again, why are you EXCITED about being accused and have corresponding evidence to back that claim? _

"I'm hanging, but it's not by my neck. Trust me, I'm still fine."

"You're insane, that's what you are." Miles disagreed venomously.

"Don't worry. I got this one."

"Oh? So you can explain that cast, then? Because I assert that you killed Fiona using only your hand and damaged it in the process. Wouldn't that work, according to your latest theory?" Ray said.

"It would."

"Then, what do you have to say for yourself?" Ray asked.

"I'm not left-handed?" Phoenix mouthed off, flailing it around.

"So, you can't throw a lefthanded punch? That's what you're saying?" Raymond combated.

"Self-defense."

"OBJECTION! Bull! You can't just claim self-defense without proof!" Raymond demanded.

"But it really is self-defense."

"And I'm telling you I'm not buying it!"

"Okay, fine!" Phoenix slammed his hands down and yelped in pain.

". . . You forgot your hand is injured, did you not?" Miles smirked, enjoying his pain for some reason.

"Yup," Phoenix's eyes watered, "Hmmm! I'm gonna hafta remember not to do that . . ."

"Just use one hand. Much more effective." Miles advised and demonstrated. "Just pick the right hand, okay?"

"Hmmm! Yeah, yeah! Phew." Phoenix held his left wrist and tried not to whimper.

"Are you alright?" Ray asked.

"Y-Yes. Ahem. So. I just have a question. This autopsy report gives it a ranged death of 5:00 PM to 6:30 PM. Let's go over something real quick. Fiona was noted alive at 3:00 PM. I was at the courthouse shortly before then, but then to Bluecorp after that. To which I stayed until 5:30 PM. Do you have any issue with this timeline?"

". . . No. The testimonies all claim to hear screams and loud noises after 6:00 PM. Why?" Raymond asked.

"I just wanted to make sure you agreed that the murder happened at 6:15 PM. If there's no reason to disagree with that timeline, then there's something else I wanted to bring up. I didn't put this cast on myself." Phoenix handed him a report from the binder and Ray folded immediately.

"Heh. Nice. Good job, detective."

"What is that?" Miles asked.

Raymond said, ". . . It's a medical report. An emergency visit at the Hotti Clinic, made by your fugitive. Check in time is yesterday at 5:48 PM and release time 10:00 PM. The emergency visit was due to a broken hand."

". . . And that happened . . ?" Phoenix grinned, looking for a confirmation.

"You checked in before the murder occurred and stayed until long after it was reported." Raymond handed Miles the report.

"In other words, I have an alibi. The police have no probable cause for my arrest, in fact, they can place me _elsewhere_. They would have to find some way to claim the murder occurred between 3:00 PM and 5:00 PM, although I'm not sure such a way exists. There weren't any noise complaints during that time period, except the one where Fiona was verified to be both alive and alone."

"A two-hour period where that might be possible, hm?" Ray scratched his chin, thinking it through. "If there were something other than a noise complaint, I'm sure the prosecution would use it. Well, got any thoughts on that? You **are** a prosecutor, aren't you?"

"Wright is a detective." Miles said, ". . . Right?"

"Well, yes. Haha." Phoenix chuckled.

"He started _off _as a detective," Ray clarified, "But then he decided it wasn't enough and went into law. You are a busy little fugitive, aren't you?"

"Hahah. . . Ah. I thought you might have known." Phoenix laughed.

"Wait, so you're a – oh no." The thought of facing Phoenix in court was now a very sudden and real possibility. "Why a prosecutor!?"

"I like the idea of defending people. But I also like hunting down criminals as a detective, then deporting them back to home for trial, then prosecuting them when they think they've seen the last of me. It's like – when they see me – they get a little paler. 'He was a detective! He couldn't both be here and there!' Why, yes. Yes, I can. I like to prosecute the people I catch. It's fun, really."

"Kinda warped, the way you say it." Ray observed.

Miles ignored Ray and asked Phoenix, "But you have no work or education history in the States _as Phoenix Wright_. Don't tell me you did this under that other alias?"

"I paid my fees yesterday and officially have a work history – well, sorta. Hours before White caught on, in fact."

"You're registered as a prosecutor here . . ." Miles let that information sink in. _Then he went to the courthouse for that sole reason._

"I was gonna fill you in this morning with a little celebration, knowing that my credits transferred in and my training with Skye was deemed complete. I passed the bar – again – and just had one last registration fee before I'm a legit prosecutor for the lovely state of CA."

_Is this a nightmare? Am I still dreaming?_

Phoenix pouted, "Then this all happened, and I'm pretty pissed about it. Oh well. I get to sit on the sidelines for once. I truly hate having to give my hard-earned evidence away. I get emotionally attached to it. Each case, I pour my heart and soul into; it's like falling in love over and over again before ending it and moving on to the next best thing. In this case, breaking up is like putting psychopaths behind bars."

"No, I really do think you need help." Ray commented.

"My therapist says I'm doing much better. And I'm cleared to work by every agency that's had similar qualms. I'm good!" Phoenix laughed.

"Oh. Good. You're mentally cleared. What a relief." Raymond shrugged.

"You weren't going in this investigation as the _lead detective. _ You were going in as the lead prosecutor." Miles felt a twitch forming in _his brain_. He was not sure that was possible or if that was a sign of early death and departure.

"Yup. Can't prosecute someone if you're thought of a suspect, though."

Miles kept an outward stoic personality, stating in response, "So, it would seem." Internally, however, he was still on the pendulum that swung the complete opposite direction of their first guesses on who Phoenix was. _Prosecutor. He is a . . . prosecutor._

Phoenix broke through his inner stuttering and said, "Listen, Miles. This entire case focuses on a man who can and will ruin anyone in his warpath. The argument against Ruby and me is incredibly weak – you might stand a chance to get us off the hook . . . without casting doubt on White. If you try and fail to get White a guilty verdict, he will not stop hunting you until there is nothing left to destroy."

"What are you saying, Wright? That I should back down?" Miles asked, starting to recover from that last bit of news.

". . . You have the option. If it comes to it, no one will think any less of you – of any of you – for not going all the way and attempting to put White where he belongs. If you can't, then I will once my alibi is proven and my name cleared."

"Wright. It's as you said before. The moment that White learns I was with you tonight; he may decide I am a threat to him by the trial's end tomorrow. I have no choice, really, but to prove him the murderer. Or, do you have reason to believe we are otherwise safe, suddenly?"

"No. I suppose I don't. Alright, Miles . . . The true murder weapon – the same reasoning applies to Ruby. She was found at the crime scene. Her gun has been tested – she didn't pistol whip Fiona to death. Her hands are incredibly unbruised. No alternative murder weapon exists that links to Ruby."

"Yes. That makes sense." Miles nodded.

"Then the murder weapon belonged to White. But . . . linking White to the apartment without a shred of DNA evidence . . . is it possible, or not?" Phoenix asked.

"You found a way to do it, I am sure." Miles said. _I believe that Clock has to be it. A weapon that White brought with him – he at least brought it to Wright's house and used it to brutalize my car. The possibility of linking that action to the apartments might be my only play here. And I cannot discount that other incident where it may have been used._

"Tell me about your self-defense, Phoenix. What happened?"

"White cornered me and used that statue – clock? – to hit me. I raised my hand in self-defense and ran on recoil. Then I pulled the fire escape to create witnesses."

"So, it was the Thinker. He used the statue on you and then followed you to the apartments. Then later to your house. He kept that thing on him this entire time." Miles said.

"Yes. That is likely." Phoenix agreed.

"But still too circumstantial to count as anything but theory." Gregory said, "If you can convince the Judge otherwise, though, he will find residue of blood from Fiona's wound."

"Yes. Exactly." Phoenix nodded, "You are both correct. If you think of it as a series of events, White kept that statue close to him. It's too bulky to dispose of easily and it would draw too much attention to the scene of the crime; at least a few Bluecorp's employees had already seen the clock on Julia's desk. They could link that statue back to Bluecorp."

"Julia?" Larry asked.

"Yes. The attack happened when I gave her my resignation. You must have given her that clock as a present, right? . . . Unfortunately, Julia witnessed White's aggressive behavior towards me."

"I knew it. Julia knew something and would not tell me." Miles said.

"Don't blame her. I told her not to tell anyone what she witnessed, for her own safety. He would have hurt her, too, if he figured out she said anything to you."

"That business card came from her – how did she connect the name Verrier back to you?"

"She heard White call me 'Wright'. I could tell she was confused."

"Okay. Then maybe she did not know, but she did try to help in the end." Miles said, though Larry looked confused.

"She was scared. Don't blame her for that, she was only doing what was best for her survival. But we're moving away from the point – White held onto that statue. He had no reason to dispose of it and will likely placed it back on Julia's desk for continuity. However, if we can prove that as a possible murder weapon, it would need to be tested."

"Okay. And how do we go about doing that?" Raymond asked.

". . . I have one last thing to show you. it's how I was able to capture your pictures without a noticeable camera." Phoenix fished out a pair of glasses and said, "Around the bridge is a video camera. I just found still shots that came out clean. I recorded when White attacked me in Julia's office. It's in first person view, though, obviously. But it still shows that White attacked _someone_, if the prosecutor takes issue with it."

Phoenix took out his laptop and played the video. The entire exchange between the two men came out clearly as well.

". . . That work can be completed tomorrow, right? Why don't you go home for the night?" The voice was male, sounding like Phoenix, and the focus was on Julia.

"You heard Mr. Wrong, right darling? Go on home, to your humble abode, Miss lovely Julia."

She stood up nervously.

"Oh, and dear? Say a word about this to anyone and you'll find yourself in need of a good lawyer. And a doctor."

"Mmmm!" She squeaked and shook violently.

Phoenix's voice said, "Julia. Do as he says. Leave. Do not contact the police. Or your friends and family. Keep yourself out of this."

Julia grabbed her car keys and wallet, then ran out the door. White caught her and she screamed.

"Don't!" Phoenix shouted. "Don't hurt her."

White eyed Phoenix and stole her phone. "All but this can go with you."

"Al-Alright . . ." She cried.

"Now, go home and watch something funny! Get your mind off of these altervocations!" He let her go and laughed as she sprinted away out of the camera's view. White shifted back into place, blocking Phoenix off and cornering him.

"What do you want?"

"Is that any way to address your superior?"

"You are not my boss."

"That is not what I mean. I mean that I am superior to a lowly creature like you in every conceivanable aspect."

"Except in vocabulary."

White frowned.

"Well! Aren't you a spry one! Mr. Wrong, I have just one thing to say to you . . ." White held out a document that showed Phoenix's registration as a prosecutor. His name was clearly visible.

"That paperwork –"

"Yes. You submitted it only three hours ago. How, you ask, that it came to be in my personage's possitasion? I have connections, you see. Informants. I would say congratulatories were called for, except that I'm told you mean to move against me."

". . . An informant, huh? I should have expected that."

"You really should have, Mr. Wrong! Unfortunately for you, I cannot afford to let a parasite squander my business. Now. If you don't mind doing one last thing for me, Mr. Wrong . . ."

"And what would that be?"

"I need you to stay silent . . . forever. Farewell, Mr. Wrong."

White reached around Phoenix's left shoulder to grab the statue, while Phoenix started to drift to his right.

White swung it around and aimed for Phoenix's left temple, but it was blocked by a hand that absorbed the damage. The clock sounded its timing call, matching perfectly to the timestamp on the video at 5:32 PM. Phoenix ran from the scene, and the moment he caught pulling the fire alarm was also recorded.

"THAT ASSHOLE PUT HIS HANDS ON JULES!" Larry screamed.

"Don't you dare do anything, Larry. I am having a time with this case as it is. She is safe, right? Keep that in mind . . ." Phoenix warned, after he paused the video. "Show this to the Judge and have him check for blood on that statue. There's an argument to be said here that White came looking for me after he tried to kill me. He went to those apartments and found Fiona instead of me."

"That . . . angle where he tried to hit you. it would have been fatal." Gregory said. "Yes. The connection exists through this."

"It's an established pattern on White's part – a careless mistake. We just have to hope that White was consistent and used the statue to murder Fiona." Phoenix said. "Otherwise, we're back to square one and White gets off the hook once more."

"Did you have recordings at the apartments?" Miles asked.

"No. in respect of Ruby's privacy, I had none of my own set up." Phoenix sighed, "I shoulda just ignored her. Turnabout is fair play, right? She had her gun on her and I remember telling her I didn't want that thing on my rented property. I'm also nearly positive I had all of them confiscated."

"Oh. Good. You know she pulled that on me, correct?" Miles rubbed it in. Phoenix slouched forward and his eye twitched.

"She – she did? . . . Yeah, the next time I see her, I am pretty sure it's going to be an all-out yelling match."

"You do not have to do that on my behalf. I am mostly recovered from it, I just wanted to say something." Miles let out a chuckle, finally able to find a light in this dark day.

"I am not over it!" Phoenix shouted, "I told her she was going to accidently shoot an innocent person! If she shot you, then I really woulda been – uh, anyway."

Miles looked at Phoenix quizzically. "You would have what, Wright?"

"Done nothing at all. Anyway, there is one more thing I would like to say."

"And what is that?"

"Do not bring up the possibility of Fiona's betrayal to Ruby. Not yet. I am not entirely convinced that she did do anything . . . Fiona's return to the apartment implies one thing to me – she probably did not have a key to the darkroom, especially if Ruby knew that she planned to do something stupid. Even if she took pictures on a film roll, I don't think she could have developed them."

"The door to the darkroom was broken into as well as the front door." Miles said. "I originally thought that White might have done it. Is that incorrect?"

"It was? . . . Oh." Phoenix put his hand to his chin, "I doubt White would have had enough time to go searching for our darkroom, given the timeline. . . . Don't tell me . . . Fiona . . ."

"Fiona planned to develop those pictures. Ruby said to me that she was out of the area, on work. Fiona waited for Ruby to leave and broke down that door." Miles frowned.

"And a noise complaint was followed up around 3:00 PM – she was still alive then and alone. . . . She broke down that door then. That is unfortunate. Let me handle that news. . . . Or maybe I won't. Maybe I'll let that information die out." Phoenix sighed.

"Discretion is wise in this." Gregory agreed, "Since it doesn't tie in with the core case, we can choose how to break that information in – if we do so at all."

Phoenix nodded, "Well, that is truly all I have. I think it's time for me to go."

"Go? Go where?" Miles demanded.

"To the detention center. I have done what I needed to do – pass on the information of the case to you. By the time you fully remove Ruby as the primary suspect, it will be my turn – and hopefully they'll be done grilling me for info that I'm not telling. I love my evidence, after all. I don't share with who I don't like. Oh. I am leaving my phone, laptop, and binder to you. I do have a letter of request for your help. All I need is a signature from one of you."

"You were planning on turning yourself in and requesting us from the beginning." Miles stated.

"If I got caught at either the crime scene or the precinct, my plan was to call you and tell you everything that I possibly could. I had more freedom to do so in this scenario. It was a necessary risk to try and extract information from the official reports . . .But yes, I wanted to pass on as much as possible, then have my own trial."

"And what will you tell them when they ask why you have avoided them?" Gregory asked.

"Oh, don't worry. I got a plan for that one, too. You all talked some sense into me, right? You told me to turn myself in so you could defend me. Wow. You all have such great ideas." Phoenix said while retrieving the request.

"If sense was so easily talked into a person, we would not be hearing about your exploits at the precinct or the crime scene." Miles signed the document. Phoenix handed him a paper with passwords, appearing pleased with his bluffing tactics. "Oh. Do me a favor, Wright. Tell me what happens when someone scores in soccer?"

"Uh? Why?" Phoenix's smile disappeared. "Hm. Soccer is the one with the tear shaped ball, right?"

"That is football."

"Oh, yeah. Soccer is football in most European countries. Or something. Why?"

". . . Let me rephrase the question. What happens when one scores 'bogey'?" Miles asked.

"Why are we talking about tennis all of a sudden?"

"Aha! Bogey is when a player ends the round with one stroke over par. In golf, not tennis or soccer."

"Oh. Okay? I don't watch sports."

"Evidently. You called 'bogey' a score in soccer, Wright. During your ridiculous play. Do you recall?"

"Oh. Oops. That's what this is about, huh? I made a mistake . . . but . . . who still fell for my solo, multi-acted performance? Who is the truly ridiculous one here?"

". . . I knew something was fishy, Wright; it was not that clever. I was just focused on relief that no one caught me." Miles bit his cheek.

"Someone did, Miles. You just weren't cued in!"

"Ah, yes. By Wright and his imaginary friends. How many different voices do you have scrambling around up there?"

"Only the few. Just be happy it's not just you who couldn't figure it out – I am talking about the precinct here – and put it to rest."

"Of course, Wright." Miles paused and felt nervous about letting him leave. ". . .Are you . . . sure you have to go? Is it dangerous? Can you turn yourself in the morning?"

"I will warn you right now, Miles. if you start crying, I will also start crying."

"How foolish. I am not going to cry over this. I am still just concerned for your wellbeing." Miles sat down at his desk, decompressing at last.

Phoenix leaned against the wall closest to him and answered, "The feeling is mutual. I would love to remain in denial over my circumstances and spend the night with, uh, the crew. But the optimal position for us both is for me to turn myself in and have the questioning phase over. Besides, if it is known that you willingly housed me with knowledge on the murder and my alleged involvement, it could tarnish your credibility. And they will be looking for ways to do that."

"Why are you uncharacteristically being the voice of reason?" Miles rolled his eyes, but knew Phoenix was correct. They already approached that line of legal acceptability and were playing hopscotch with it all night. If Phoenix did not turn himself in, and instead stayed with Miles that night, it would only add more to the growing list of grievances.

"I am when I have to be. I know. it's not how I want to be spending my night, trust me. I hope you can get some sleep, but if not, you can look through my laptop at other video evidence. There's a decent amount there, but you'll have to be careful with most of it. You'd probably already guessed, but footage on White's contracts would still be considered illegal to use because my investigation was not declared."

Phoenix did something to his phone and then left it with his possessions.

Miles asked, "How were you planning on prosecuting, then? A lot of what you did would not be seen in decent light by the courts."

"PI work doesn't have to be declared in the same way as an open investigation does. I was a sanctioned mole, really. There's enough probable cause surrounding Bluecorp because of a string of recent events which made it A-OK. . . .Those anonymous testimonies were going to be a large part of my play, too. Those were obtained legally and could be used accordingly."

"They could have claimed you were making these stories up." Miles said.

"Once word got out that White was being tried legitimately, a lot of those testimonies would be taken by their author – a name to a claim. Any good argument is comprised of three things – ethos, logos, pathos. The key elements to any persuasive argument. The human element – the one where many start to confirm the testimonies and have the protection of the herd – would be an emotional appeal. Logically, if that many people were stepping forward, one would have to look passed the smoke and mirrors and see a pattern of misery. If anything happened to them, then the public eye would be acutely aware of it. And lastly, the credibility of White's outward persona would be dismantled. That's when I could use this . . ."

Phoenix handed Miles a list of names. "These are people who have committed suicide in the last decade and also have blackmail extortion ties with Bluecorp. Of course, I may have missed some names along the way. After White's mental health was on the line, I would have read him these names."

_There are a lot of names. Knowing that many people were dead because of his actions and then have it read back to him would be devastating. _

Phoenix dug out a few bus tickets from his pocket, "I don't know if it will be important, but . . . the 5th, 6th, and 7th, I was out of town. I went to a village 2 hours from here. They were crowning the next Master."

"Master?"

"Kurain. I have some loose ties to that village. I wanted to be there for the next Master, even if I'm considered an outsider. She helped me through some things and I consider her to be a close ally."

"But she is called 'Master'? This is that reservation network that your mother – ah . . . never mind." Miles remembered learning something like that from Faine, but did not know if it was acceptable to talk about.

"My mom's home environment, yeah. I didn't go to the village she grew up in this time, but it's the central village of that system."

_My relationship with my own Father is optimal . . . But Phoenix is the complete opposite with his, and for good reason. _ Miles asked. "Do you mind talking about your Mother or would you rather avoid it?" He had no idea how one would approach a person who had a loved one perish from horrid circumstances.

"I do not mind talking about her."

"And your Father?" Miles had a lot of questions about that still.

". . . Hmm. I guess. I'd rather have him addressed as something less important, though. Sperm donor might be a bit too crude for your liking, though, but the sentiment is there."

"I will – uh – avoid asking questions about him. For now." Miles looked over at his own father, talking with Ray. Larry and Missile passed out a while ago – it was late and the 11th had rolled into the 12th. _I could never envision harboring sentiments like that about Father. To have such a colossal failure of a paternal figure is beyond what I can imagine, and I do not know what to do with it._

"Hey, Miles. Do me a favor, okay?" Phoenix said.

"Oh? Yes, what is it?"

". . . Never apologize for having him. Okay?" Phoenix was looking at Gregory as well. He must have guessed what Miles thought again. Miles gripped his pant legs then nodded in agreement. He felt that note he placed in his pocket, the one with Phoenix's handwriting on it, and became at ease with how the situation unfolded.

Raymond came over and asked in a gentler tone than he had that evening, "Hey. You were wanting to go to the detention center tonight, right?"

"Yeah."

_. . .No. . ._

"Is there something that you did to stall out the police following up on Miles' car?" Raymond inquired.

"Yes." Phoenix nodded, "I will let him know that we are done."

"Ah. No wonder we went through this undisturbed for so long. You're a prepared adversary, alright." Raymond joked.

"Well, I do have connections . . . Speaking of connections, I'm a bit curious as to what all you dug up on me."

"I think I'll keep that to myself." Ray retorted and then asked, "How do you plan on getting to the station?"

"Since we got here, a 'friend' of mine has lent several of his troops to patrol this lot. If White comes within a distance of this place, he will be arrested on the spot. One of those guys will escort me. You all should stay here for your own safety."

"You weren't gonna let us get hit by this maniac, were you?" Raymond asked, "I feel kinda bad for our initial distrust of you."

"No worries. You'll have more reasons to distrust me later on."

"Oh-ho! I don't doubt it! . . . Yeah. I think Mr. Edgeworth is right about you . . ."

"Hmm? What did he say about me?" Phoenix asked.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. You should get going, prosecutor. Your specially prepared quarters await you."

"How's the room service? Terrible, I bet."

"Intrusive, even." Raymond completed the exchange and Phoenix prepared to depart.

"Can you do a few things during tomorrow's trial?" Phoenix asked Ray. "Can you find out if Ruby has a way to prove she was not at the apartments that afternoon? Also, I clocked in as Verrier at Bluecorp. You'll need to establish that alias . . . Ruby was out of town on a job, and White and I were at Bluecorp. They have no way to prove anything happened before 5:00 PM, but you need a counter in case they do try that move." Phoenix requested.

"Yup. Will do. Tomorrow should go over smoothly for you, Mr. Wright." Raymond nodded. There was a knock on the office's front door. Gregory felt unease when he stood up to consider his options.

". . . I will go check." Phoenix said. As soon as he looked down the hall and saw the face, he reassured, "It's my ride." Phoenix let in the person, who seemed agitated at best. His hair was a shade of blond, also spiked up similar to Phoenix's, but not as profoundly. The blond tips went up, and resembled wolf ears, while Phoenix's black hair went out and resembled more of a bird's. His clothes were primarily black and he had a coat with a fluffy trim.

"Heya boss." Phoenix laughed.

"Save it. I can't believe I went along with this plan of yours." He grumbled. Phoenix moved back to the plush and pulled out an envelope.

"You did it for this, remember? Thanks for stalling the police for me, sir. Fair trade."

"Right. And I'm taking you in with chains." He pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Aw! Sir! You've been waiting to do that since we met, haven't you?" Phoenix flirted, then he raised his hands, "I don't know if those would work on a cast. Besides, haven't you forgotten? I can slip out of those if I really wanted to."

"You need a ball gag, too. It would stop you from yipping at me, pup. If you know what's best for you, you'll come with me nice and easy. No antics."

Miles stood up and asked, "Who is this, Phoenix?"

"Oh. I should have known." Phoenix's boss stared at Miles, "You went and sniffed yourself out a pretty boy."

"Pretty boy?" Miles repeated.

Phoenix moved between the desks and said, "Hey! I didn't sniff him out, he sniffed me out. Completely different. Miles, this is the team lead – Agent Shi-Long Lang."

"Just Lang will be fine. Before you get too heavily involved with this animal, you should know that he has a bite to go with that bark. Most idiots just yap."

"I am multi-talented. Now. You will keep your agents around this office, right? I don't want anything to happen to my saviors." Phoenix asked. Miles noticed Phoenix was looking at the shredder. If Lang threatened anything, Phoenix was prepared to destroy whatever it was he collected for Lang.

"Hah! Sure, I guess. Are these attorneys going cage that unruly beast for you?" Lang asked.

"I wanted to do it myself, but clearly, that isn't possible. Well. I guess it's time to be arrested, huh?" Phoenix joked and brought the envelope with him.

"You are his boss? And you are okay with arresting him like this?" Miles asked.

"Why wouldn't I be? It's up to you fancy, delicate attorneys to have a safe discussion on the who the killer is. My job is to make arrests. If you can't free this pup, then I'm out a subordinate." Lang shrugged. "My ancestor has a saying that sums it up – 'those who bask in the sunlight too long become prey for the predator.'"

"Yeah. I did take a long time with this. It's not my fault there were so many roadblocks. Oh. You know that one homeland project you asked me about? And I wasn't sure if I wanted to take it. We can discuss it. I think I want to stay home, after all." Phoenix said.

'_Homeland Project'?_

"Well, I owe you, pretty boy. Seems like Wright still has a one tracked mind. . . If you aren't a murderer, I'd be glad to discuss it with you." Lang said. "We also need to discuss your methods. Now, I'm all for a go-getter, but . . . 'Those who seek unneeded attention often find their peril instead.'"

"Is that like the American saying, 'He who stirs the shit, first licks the spoon?" Phoenix asked.

". . . Don't make this worse for yourself, pup."

"Sorry, sir. So? Handcuffs? Is that what we're trying?"

"Say goodnight to your pretty boy. All I have to say is good luck tomorrow." Lang kept an ornery smile on him while Phoenix wrapped up his farewells.

"You are safe with this man, right?" Miles had no intention on trusting Lang.

Phoenix did, though, and said, "Oh sure. Lang bares his fangs a lot, but he's a good guy at heart. We just deal with a lot of criminals, so . . . he can be crabby."

"Hmm." Miles was still not convinced.

"I will be fine with him. Unlike the precinct, I know Lang. He and I have a lot in common – he's just mad because I chose to be a prosecutor. He still hasn't forgiven me for that one." Phoenix assured.

"Why would he care about that?" Miles asked.

"I'll explain it later. Tomorrow, maybe, if all goes well. Get some rest, Miles." Phoenix said.

". . . I better see you tomorrow." Miles demanded, folding his arms and then eying Lang again.

"Don't worry, pretty boy. I'll make sure nothing happens to him. And my men will make sure nothing happens to you. We have enough on White to make an arrest, so if he come on this property, he'll be damning himself."

"That is reassuring," Gregory said. "We will see you in a few hours, Phoenix. It was a pleasure meeting you, Agent Lang."

"Ah, refreshing. Manners. The pleasure is mine, Mr. . ."

"Edgeworth." Gregory nodded.

"Mr. Edgeworth. Well, come on, pup. I have my own investigation to see to."

Phoenix went with him – Lang decided not to use the handcuffs after all. It was probably a good choice, as Phoenix was a excited at the thought, for reasons Miles did not understand.

Notes:

I think I am going to not write in the court session - like Investigations, most of the truth is learned outside of the court. I am going to use this recipe as well. It would be a rehash of the same details and I think most of the points are now cleared up (as far as what happened with the murder).

But I will write out an outline and see if there are elements I want to add in. Obviously, there's a couple of witnesses and White himself (the breakdown) but It would be similar to cannon.


	18. Ruby's Story

Summary:

The day of court commences and Miles learns more about Ruby and Fiona.

Notes:

Found a way to add in the court without repeating too much information and keep it flowing.

Ruby's Story

Friday August 12th 2016 – 2:07 AM

'It all began when the sisters, each running an important part of a fringe radical newsletter, investigated White of Bluecorp. Many people caught on to Bluecorp's schemes over the years . . . most of them found their lives ruined as reward. Ruby, Fiona, and Ursula were three such people.

Ursula, known as Ursea to her sisters, was a talented reporter and author. Fiona was the publisher and managed their website and equipment. And Ruby was the photographer. They each had a vital role in their newsletter and had a cult-like following.

They competed with local news and would give a varying belief, backed with facts and proof, on the broadcasted channels. It showed how modern sensationalism ruined what should have been the spread of open information, instead of twisted lies and fearmongering… Well, that's how they viewed media, anyway.

Once White retaliated he found Ursea with a rookie detective. A man who wanted to use their findings in an investigation that would soon be cut short. He was betrayed by the prosecutor he had been assigned to. The prosecutor must have had a contract on him – some blackmail or another over his head.

Ruby wanted to keep fighting. Fiona chose to run away. Their newsletter vanished as quickly as the Ursea's murder case was swept under the rug. An innocent man is imprisoned and a corrupt one is left to play king over a city that knows no better.'

As Miles read the last of the document, unable to fall asleep, he could tell that Phoenix had a flair for the dramatic even in his case notes. Speaking of flaring, Miles noticed that Phoenix did not show a driver's liscence and that all forms of identification had a similar bright flare in the picture. There was a white streak down what appeared behind Phoenix in his American photographs, and a flash on his torso in the French one. Peculiar enough to make Miles want to ask Phoenix about it when they next have a chance to talk about frivolities.

The Bluecorp notes all required a password to access them, even after the main laptop had been opened. The files marked with different codes required a different password, though Phoenix did not provide it. Feed from the house went to the laptop; feed from the glasses went to the phone, which were beside all the items Phoenix left for Miles' use in the upcoming trial. Phoenix transferred all of the phone feed to the laptop, however, for convenience.

Laptop password: $ muRa1

File access password : 81u3c0Rp

Unrelated Files : ?

Phone access swipe+pin (a two-step verification unlock) : M , 1735

Even the one labeled with 'A connection to B' required a password not disclosed. If Miles knew what the first job consisted of, perhaps he could work out the password . . . he thought about tricking the information out of Phoenix later, somehow; that would mean Miles would have to be better at a verbal arena than Phoenix and have enough charisma to ask for it in a way that wasn't Miles obviously trying to snoop. 'C' files were the newest according to their date stamps – probably the one Phoenix mentioned but stated unrelated to Bluecorp and job A.

Miles double checked the phone for anything of use. He swiped the 'M' shape, then added the digits 1735. 'M'1735. Miles wondered if it stood for something, but never did grasp the 'making letters out of numbers' phenomenon that a lot of other children did when playing on a calculator. He was more interested in, you know, doing the homework . . .

Once he unlocked the phone, a backdrop on the screen instantly made Miles sigh. It was the one of Miles tricking Larry into baiting himself at Bluecorp – the one where he had a vindictive smile. Phoenix cropped out all the identifiers placing him at Bluecorp, but he could not help but find it hypocritical all the same. Besides, what _was _Phoenix's fixation on Miles' stare? He kept mentioning it – no, he seemed to _enjoy _bringing it up. _Obsessive, much, Wright?_

Once he was sufficiently sure that he had all of the information he could possibly need – and made an outline of his argument based on their argument from earlier – Miles decided to give his mind a rest. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Yes, he would drift off any second now . . .

_What is a ball gag? _He intrusively thought – he wanted to know since Lang made that offhand comment but did not want to ask. His own computer went in a low power state, but he could summon it if he needed to.

Miles brought up a browser and queried, 'What is a ball gag?' He instantly regretted it.

Search Results

**Web results**

**Gag (BDSM)**

**Everything You Need To Know About Ball Gags – AskMen**

**What are the purpose of ball gags?**

_**A gag is a device used in sexual bondage and BDSM roleplay. Gags are usually associated with roleplays involving bondage, but that is not necessarily the case. The person who wears the gag is regarded as the submissive partner, while the other is regarded as the dominant one.**_

There was an image of a woman with one attached around her face. She looked so distressed that it made Miles instantly exit the browser and question humanity's decision-making skills in the same millisecond. He then thought of Wright wearing one and it . . . was well-deserved for Phoenix and not at all a bad mental image, though he refused to take it any further.

He turned off the computer and laid back once more. He needed to sleep – if it only ended up being a nap, then so be it – but he had to loosen his mind and quiet his thoughts. Right now, all he needed to concentrate on was calming his overworked and stressed brain.

_Wright in handcuffs __**and **__the ball gag._

If it were not for the fact that all the other members of the Edgeworth's Law Offices were asleep nearby, Miles would have let out a very disappointed grumble in protest to where his mind wandered. Phoenix was Miles' first friend – the first connection he had to someone his age. Larry came as a packaged deal, and Miles cared for him as a friend (willingly admitting it or not); but Larry did not have the same depth as Phoenix.

Miles may have defended Phoenix all those years ago as practice (he could not care much less for the missing lunch money, nor did he actually ever believe that Phoenix was the culprit – _**Larry**_), but he gained some perspective on how people react to being defended. It was rewarding. It gave him a friend. Many innocent people's lives could continue to move forward. Miles usually did not connect with people but knowing that his efforts bore something that powerful made him continue to ever march ahead. And it all started with mirroring his father and first feeling that sense of justice defending Phoenix.

. . . And after all these years of worrying and searching, Miles found him again.

#

Friday August 12th 2016– 9:00 AM

"Hey, Miles." Phoenix smiled in the defendant lobby. "Turns out having an alibi really does make or break a case, huh?"

"They freed you already?" Miles asked.

"Yeah. I feel a trap coming on, though. Probably best not to celebrate it too soon – they might still try to damn me for something else. I think they're bringing Ruby in soon." Phoenix said. "Where's the others?"

"Ray is confirming your timeline. Father is talking with the police about my car. Yes, I know, I should be handling that but considering I'm the lead attorney in the upcoming murder trial, he wanted to take some of the tension off of me. I do not want to use that footage of White breaking my windshield just yet – I do not want it to be known that it exists until after the trial."

"Smart thinking. Ah. Miles . . ." He saw iwho Phoenix reacted to. Aruna Purohit, the lead prosecutor with his pin displayed on his ceremonial clothing, made a visit to this wing.

"Mr. Wright." He said with a flat tone, then looked at Edgeworth. "Mr. Edgeworth."

"Yeah? Wait. I know you." Phoenix said.

". . . You are not the only one with dual citizenship. I believe we met some time ago, yes? . . . Interesting life you lead, Mr. Wright."

"I try. What do you need, Mr. Purohit? It isn't customary in this country for the prosecution and defense to meet before the trial." Phoenix pointed out.

"I am aware. There is something I wanted to bring to your attention. Something that I do not need for this trial. Consider it a . . . gift from when our paths last crossed, Mr. Wright."

Aruna gave Phoenix a phone and said, "It belonged to the victim. You should give it back to Miss Frost." He then left the defendant's lobby.

"Her phone, huh?" Phoenix pointed, "Let's take this into one of the rooms. I think we need to discuss something."

"Yes. We do." Miles agreed, then they locked themselves in a vacant room. "How do you know him?"

Phoenix sat on the couch and worked on the phone, "A case that closed a couple of years back. A giant human-trafficking ring, circling through multiple countries. Aruna's city was one of the major checkpoints for the ring leaders. Strange. He might have known I had a fake name, but he isn't INTERPOL, so he wouldn't have known _that _alias specifically. Probably."

"Ah. I take it that means he doesn't want to see you imprisoned?"

"Miles. I don't presume to know what anyone wants anymore."

"I see. Have you pulled any information from that phone?"

". . . It's locked. If we show this to Ruby and there is something on it that points to Fiona contacting White, I don't know how she'll handle it." Phoenix shook his head, "I need to get into this first."

"Or you could let her actions be known and not lie to Ruby? Is there any point protecting a woman who likely sold you out?" Miles retorted. "I understand there is prudence involved in this, as she is deceased and cannot speak on her own behalf, but Fiona made her choices. They almost killed you and they did kill her. Or, she did not take those pictures with the intent to do you harm, and you have yet to discover the true informant. Which is better for you at this point in time? A lie that might protect Ruby, or the truth that would protect you?"

"Whew. That's refreshing honesty if I've ever heard it."

"I am just saying, Wright, that it is time to air all of this out. We cannot afford to make assumptions."

"Fine . . . I will let this phone – hm. What is the likelihood that Ruby knew what Fiona planned to do?" Phoenix rerouted midsentence.

"She had no reason to conspire, if what you attested to earlier is accurate. Wright, between the two of us, we should be able to catch Ruby in a lie if there is one. What do you say? Up for a preemptive cross-examination?"

"Sure. If nothing else but for our sanity, right?" Phoenix laughed nervously. He had not shown signs of apprehension before, and they arguably went through a lot worse in the last 24 hours.

"When is the last time you slept, Phoenix?" Miles asked, having a hunch that lack of sleep started to cause instability.

"Oh, fu – probably Monday night? Before I saw you and Larry at Bluecorp and giving me a heart attack?"

"My apologies for that. Do you need some rest?" _His eyes are heavy and swollen. _

"If I crash, it will be days before I wake up. I gotta keep the forward momentum or I won't be doing much of anything."

"That is not good for your health, Phoenix."

"I know, I know. I know." Phoenix pocketed the phone, stared at the floor, and went awfully silent. A silence that he had not been capable of since their reunion. Miles sat down next to him and noticed the eccentric man had dozed off mere moments after explaining why he should not.

_Fight it all you want, Wright. The body has basic needs – sleep is one of them._

Miles indulged in a few moments of listening to Phoenix's rhythmic deep breathing and closed his eyes. He felt the troubles that they faced slowly ease away and an atypical calm warmth enveloped Miles.

#

Friday August 12th 2016– 9:30 AM

A knock on the door woke Miles up. He realized he allowed himself too much luxury and fell asleep beside Phoenix, who was undisturbed by the noise. He checked the time and exhaled when he still had 30 minutes before the trial.

Miles opened the door and Ruby and Ray came in, escorted by a guard. "Morning, prince. Good to see you." Ray greeted. "Gotta go. You kids have fun."

"Hey, Red." Ruby said. The guard took watch outside their room. Ruby sat on the desk and eyed Wright. "He could sleep through a tornado or an earthquake, I'm sure of it. So, Red, got enough for today?"

"Yes. I am confident in that fact. Miss Frost, I have a question that concerns your relationship with Fiona."

". . . Kay. What is it?" She crossed her arms.

"Noise complaints. Several of them. You and Fiona were arguing, were you not? Can you go into more detail about the nature of your arguments?"

"Hmph. Why?"

"Motive, Miss Frost. I want to be able to counter that fact, which the prosecution will undoubtedly call attention to." Miles said.

"Tch. Fine. We were in a disagreement all week. That's all."

". . . Disagreement? About what?" _How much do you know, Ruby?_

"Fiona wanted me to move with her. I wanted to avenge Ursea. We were unable to calmly come to an agreement on that." Ruby said.

"Oh. So, Fiona was out of town until this last week, or was she planning to move away?"

"Uh. Yeah. Yeah. Sorry. She left town after Ursea was buried. Did I never mention that? Sorry." Ruby changed her tone rather quickly.

_She did not want to let Wright know that Fiona was back. The only question now, is why?_

"After Ursula was buried, you say? Did Fiona leave immediately after that, then?" Miles questioned. _Your timing is a bit exaggerated, Miss Frost . . ._

"Why?"

"I want to confirm Fiona's movements and establish a clear timeline."

". . .Yeah. Sure. Fi moved in . . . January 2016."

"So, she did wait a few months before leaving. Did she know Wright very well?" Miles asked.

"No. She avoided him . . . She left saying she didn't want to be involved in our suicide mission. She came back saying that enough was enough, and that I should abandoned my quest. But, how could I? How could I let Ursea's death go? And now Fi is . . . Is there a point to this? Why are you asking me about this?"

_There is a definite breakdown in communication in all three of these people. Wright kept an eye on Ruby to ensure she did not get herself killed. Ruby was 'using' Phoenix – but did not realize he had been doing the same to her. And Fiona wanted it all to end . . . Just like Wright suggested._

". . . I apologize. Miss Frost, there is another situation I wanted to inform you on . . . the door to the darkroom was broken into."

"Well! White didn't get his hands on nothin' important! Serves that bastard right." Ruby said smugly.

_. . . Strange. That reaction was not forced. She truly believed that White break it in, did she?_

"There was nothing of importance that you were working on, then? What about Fiona? She had her own equipment, correct, if memory serves me properly?"

"Oh. Fiona had not been taking jobs for a while. She had no reason to go into the darkroom . . ." Ruby shrugged.

"Hmm. So, you never gave her the key, then?" Miles asked.

"No. I didn't."

_If White only came to find and silence Wright, then planted the false weapon and escaped, he would not have had time to go snooping in the darkroom. That leaves Fiona . . . _". . . Understood, Miss Frost. I think that is all I needed to clarify. If Wright wakes up from his nap, I think he may have a few words to exchange with you."

_Did White kill the wrong sister, or did he not care that he betrayed his informant? _

Ruby stared at Phoenix and then said, "Oh, I am sure that one wants a word with me. I am not looking forward to listening to his sanctimonious bitching."

"In what way is he 'sanctimonious'?" Miles asked, though he could see it if he squinted hard enough.

"I'm pretty sure he's the reason that most of my guns were taken from me. I had to prove I wasn't dealin' 'em to get them back from the popo. It is my right to own firearms, and I will utilize that right."

". . . Ah."

"I bet you're the same way." Ruby scoffed, "After this is done, hopefully White will be behind bars. If not, I'm back to where I started. With much less to lose. Justice better be dealt, Red. I will revel in the day this State executes him."

_Several decades ago, the death penalty was reissued for criminals of the most heinous crimes. There are many conflicting opinions on allowing the State to make this decision, but the Act had yet to be overturned. Despite the imminent threat of death, criminal activity has only worsened._

"Miss Frost, I cannot find fault in your desires, but you might want to lower your voice when you celebrate capital punishment. It would not look too good for your case."

"There's that sanctimonious BS. Well, you gotta point. I'll behave, for now, Red."

#

Friday August 12th 2016– 10:00 AM

Prosecutor Purohit and Detective Gumshoe supplied the details parallel to the one Phoenix presented. Miles and Gregory took the defense stand and mentally prepared for the dissection of the 'facts' at hand. Ruby sat in the defendant's chair, one leg crossed over the other and arms folded – completely closed off to the world.

Phoenix remained asleep in the defendant's lobby – Miles decided to let him rest and give him the good news when he woke up. He truly did all he could and was safe in the defendant's lobby – well, he should be safe. Raymond delivered additional evidence (a counter to the hypothetical if Purohit tried to change the time of death up several hours) and went to keep an eye on Phoenix.

By Gumshoe's words, Ruby's proximity to the murder site and the murder weapon made her the most suspicious. She then had ample reason and time to kill her sister. Miles quickly discredited the murder weapon and gave a compelling reason as to why – he did not bend it on his knee as Wright did, but the argument was strong enough without the demonstration.

That left proximity to the apartment left.

"Mr. and Mr. Edgeworth. Our murder weapon is questionable. It would seem that . . . Miss Frost planted the weapon in order to disguise the true weapon in hopes to incriminate Phoenix Wright. Would you agree?" Purohit said, then informed the court about the fingerprints found on the rod.

The Judge seemed perplexed by this. "Mr. Purohit, Phoenix Wright's fingerprints were found on the rod?

"Yes. But as the defense explained, that murder weapon is false. Miss Ruby Frost knew that the rod belonged to Phoenix Wright, and substituted it to deflect blame onto another."

"Then what is this 'alternative weapon'?" Miles asked.

"You were the one who found fault with it. Perhaps you should clarify to the court what your suspicions are of the weapon?" Purohit countered without a raise of his voice. He was monotone, even in the heat of the oral quarrel.

_Why is he asking us? He saw through the phony weapon, too. Of course, only a buffoon could handle the weapon and not see its incongruity. _Miles' eyes rested on Dick Gumshoe and it all made sense. If Purohit was limited to what the detective found, then of course he would not have had the time to search for the real weapon.

"Yes. He anticipated our breakdown." Gregory said. "This may pose a problem for us. Unless we shift the blame back to Purohit."

"Right. He supplied the false weapon. The burden of proof rests on him." Miles agreed, then addressed the court, "Mr. Purohit and Mr. Gumshoe proposed the rod as the murder weapon in the first place. The burden of announcing the weapon used by Ruby Frost, if such a thing exists, should also be on them."

"She did have a firearm on her person when she was arrested." The Judge stated as he read over the details on Ruby.

"And was this gun tested?" Miles asked.

". . . Yes. There were no traces of blood found on the pistol. She did not use it as the weapon." Purohit confirmed. ". . . Your honor. I request that we move on from the murder weapon at this time to listen to a witness. Perhaps Miss Frost disposed of it and we have yet to discern its location . . . In that case, we either need one more day to do another search or we can use a witness to . . . figure out the true weapon and its location."

"Phoenix mentioned he sensed a trap. I cannot help but feel that Purohit is trying to lead this somewhere else." Miles said to his father.

"We have a good idea of what the murder weapon is. But it is still too soon to tie it in to White." Gregory observed, "We need to listen to Polly."

"And have her mention her husband saw a man in a purple suit." Miles agreed. _Carefully. One wrong move could set this entire delicate case ablaze._

The Judge addressed the defense, "Well . . . the murder weapon is an integral aspect of any murder investigation. Does the defense have any objections to moving passed this issue?"

"No. Your Honor. We would like to hear what this witness has to say as well. But we will return to this soon." Miles answered.

"Very well. Prosecutor Purohit . . . Who is your witness?"

"The neighbor, as well as the one who reported the crime to the police."

The Judge announced a recess while Purohit readied the witness, and Miles, Ruby, and Gregory discussed out in the hallway what happened in court.

"So. Rod wasn't the weapon?" She folded her arms. "What is?"

"We will get to that." Miles said.

"Ah. Keeping your hand close to your chest. Fine. As long as it gets me the win and then the win again, I don't care what tricks you use. Fi. Ursea. I hope you are watching."

Gregory met Miles' eyes, understanding that Ruby had no idea what Fiona possibly had done, and then smiled at Ruby. "Just know that we are doing everything in our power to expose the true culprit. It is delicate and we cannot speak of it too much."

"That's fine. It . . . hurts to see those pictures and to hear what happened. But I will not back down. And I'm glad you're not, either. Where the bloody hell is Wright? He should be here, too. Let's go wake his sleeping beauty ass up!"

"He passed out after telling me all that he knew. Why are you so intent on having him in the courtroom, if you do not mind me asking?" Miles asked.

"Uh, Red? This battle is long overdue. He's been an ally to me this entire time and I want him to see our victory."

_Ally? Our victory? There is no way Ruby knew, is there? Maybe Wright is right about that phone. Maybe we should be more cautious when and if we reveal that truth to her._

"What's wrong, Red? You're even paler than usual."

"Oh, I was merely thinking about the next phase in court." Miles lied.

"Would having Wright with us make you feel at ease, Miss Frost?" Gregory asked.

"Pssh. I don't need a pacifier." She closed up again. _Wright had barely slept this week. Ruby probably is deficient as well. We need to wrap this up so these two can start to find closure._

Ruby was taken in by the bailiff and Gregory said, "I think Ruby and Phoenix are both emotionally unadjusted people. It is a wonder how either of them came this far."

"Ruby _and _Phoenix?" Miles asked.

"Yes. Watch him closely over these next few months, Miles. He puts on a smile and acts like nothing will get under his skin – but as we close in on December, the truth will thoroughly break through all those carefully weaved fronts. His father may be set free and it will destroy part of him – part of that safety he did so well to build up. Ruby is the same way, right now. Learning the truth about Fiona would just be another enormous blow to her psyche."

"I have no idea how to approach this." Miles admitted, feeling both confident that Ruby did not know about Fiona and that Fiona did intend to sabotage Wright; and feeling insecure about broaching this topic, conflicting to how he felt earlier that morning.

_The truth can be painful. What can we do to discover it without breaking them in the process?_


	19. Polly

Summary:

Miles cross examines Polly Yanni.

Friday August 12th 2016 – 11:30 AM

Purohit stood at his designated post and asked the witness to state her name and profession. She was a middle-aged woman modestly dressed – a blue sweeter and black pants. She said, "I am Polly Yogi. I am a yoga instructor."

The Judge and the prosecutor segued into the next phase – the one that Miles and Gregory waited for.

"So. I was home as usual. Baking brownies and waiting for my nightly seminar. When I heard booming footsteps rushing up to the third floor. 'My, someone's in a hurry', I thought to myself. Then I heard loud bangs on the neighboring door and a woman screamed! I called the police instantly! Then barricaded myself in the bathroom."

One of the de facto strategies – unrecognized by most courts as it truly was an underhanded play – was to press on every fact and statement until a thread of lies formed. It was coined as 'badgering the witness' and it was correctly called out when abuse. Miles did not use this strategy: it was primitive and akin to monkeys flinging feces until something stuck.

Instead, he knew exactly where the contradictions resided and where to apply the pressure. It was called _being thorough _and _knowing the facts of the case just as well as the prosecution_.

The obvious lie as followed: She was not a yoga instructor, she sold marijuana infused desserts; this didn't matter and Miles couldn't care less. She left out the part where she pulled Yanni away from witnessing White. That is the critical omission that needed exposed.

"Mrs. Yogi, where was your husband during this time?" Miles asked.

"Objection," Purohit yawned, "Is there a point to this?"

"Of course there is. If she heard it then her husband did, too." Miles reasoned.

". . . True. I suppose." Purohit shrugged. _Can you at least pretend to care about this trial?_

"Objection . . . overruled?" The Judge was equally bewildered by the blasé attitude of the prosecutor.

"I took him in the bathroom with me." She answered.

"And before then?"

"Obje –" he yawned again, "Excuse me. Objection. Your honor, Mr. Yogi's mental state is questionable. I have his medical records. He lost a lot of his cognitive functioning due to severe oxygen deficiency and PTSD after being trapped alone in a darkened elevator for five hours."

"Oh my! When did this happen?" The Judge asked.

"Fifteen years ago. In this courthouse. He was a bailiff here." Purohit answered.

"Oh! That's where I knew that name from. That was . . . him, then." Gregory recalled a bailiff with that name – although they were never close. "There was an earthquake here. We were already outside when it cut the power in the courthouse, do you remember it?"

". . . I do. A little." Miles nodded. _He is going to play it as if Yogi has no cognitive ability and cannot be trusted as a witness, then._

"From then on I always took the stairs. Who knows what could have happened in that elevator?" Gregory said.

"I . . . cannot imagine it." _What may or may not have happened then does not change the fact that we fell for Purohit's trap. He knew we would go for his alternative witness and found a way to discredit it. We have other moves, of course . . . but is it safe to use them now?_

"Does the defense have a good reason to bring Mr. Yogi in to testify?" The Judge asked, "Abusing the witness, especially one who has health issues, for a lead is not looked well upon."

"Well, any ideas, Father?" Miles asked.

"It's a risky gambit. We should stay with Mrs. Yogi for a few more minutes. See if she actually saw anything."

"And if she was ordered to lie?" Miles asked.

"Then we need to expose the lie." Gregory stated.

"No. Your Honor. Not at this time." Miles answered the earlier question.

Purohit dozed off into the ether and Miles asked, "Miss Yogi. You were baking brownies at the time you heard the commotion outside. Did you look out the window or the door to see _who _was causing a the disturbance?"

"I would never have put myself in that kind of danger." She said. "I called the police then the office as soon as I heard it all. I swear, I been calling them all week long! Those sisters are noisy!"

"What was your husband doing during your phone calls?"

"Oh, he was sitting with Polly." She said.

"He was – come again? Is your name not Polly?" Miles asked.

"Oh! Polly the Parrot, silly! I'm Polly the wife and he has a parrot named Pretty Polly." She explained.

"That is – um – nice. When he sits with Polly the Parrot, what does that activity entail?"

"Objection due to relevancy. The defense is grasping and he knows it. Let us imagine a parrot that sits with his owner. What does that mean? It means the parrot sits with his owner. Nothing else."

"Well, it does seem intuitive." The Judge agreed.

"Then let me rephrase. Who was sitting? The bird or the man?" Miles asked.

". . .Oh, you know what? Neither of them! Pretty Polly was flying around the room. Yanni was trying to catch Pretty Polly. It's a game. She gets excited when my brownies are stewing! Hehe!"

_Do not tell me you feed the bird your brownies. . . It's poisonous to them. _Miles asked, "And did Pretty Polly ever roost near the window?"

"How did you know?" She exclaimed, "Are you a mind reader?"

_Well, this was certainly not the direction I expected this to go in._

"If Polly the Parrot roosted at the window, does that mean Mr. Yanni Yogi was sitting near the windows at the time of the attack?" Miles asked.

"Hmm."

"Objection . . . We already decided not to ask Mr. Yogi to the stand. Please keep that in mind, Mr. Edgeworth."

"I am not asking on his behalf." Miles stated. ". . .Mrs. Yogi, when you completed the calls, where was your husband and the parrot?"

"Um. By the window."

"And you took him to the bathroom for safety. Which means you would have been near the window as well." Miles explained. "Did you see anything when you collected your husband?"

"I . . . um . . ."

"Mrs. Yogi?" The Judge asked, "Did you see anything at the window?"

". . .Hmm. Maybe if I talk about it, something will jog? I was really scared and my brownies were burning by the time we heard the police sirens."

"Very well. Mrs. Yogi, please testify to the events after the phone calls were made." The Judge requested.

"Okay! So . . . like. I went by the window like you said. I was focused more on my husband . . . He said something – a 'suite of diamonds'. Then Polly repeated the phrase and has kept saying it. Since she keeps saying it, Yanni keeps saying it. It's a vicious cycle, really."

"A 'suit of diamonds'? Do you know what this phrase means?" Miles asked. _You're missing a descriptor, Mrs. Yogi._

"Hmm. Well. There is a deck of cards that he sometimes plays go fish with. Pretty Polly is good at that game, hehe."

". . . And what is the color of this deck?"

Purohit laughed, displaying some emotion, "Objection. Dear me. You seem to have long traveled of the beaten path. A deck of cards? A 'suit' of diamonds. None of this has anything to do with the perpetrator."

"Then why would Mr. Yogi say it as the murder took place? Do you not find it odd, Mr. Purohit? A 'suite' or a 'set' could be misconstrued for a 'suit' or 'formalwear' – Are we absolutely sure we understand this part clearly? Which is more likely that Mr. Yogi was describing at that moment? A deck of cards or someone's clothing?"

"To a fully cognitive person, clothing. To a person with cognitive malfunction, who knows?" Purohit said.

"Mrs. Yogi. Did Mr. Yogi state anything in addition to this 'Suit of Diamonds'?"

"Hmm. Purple! A 'purple suite of diamonds!' It does have a romantic ring to it, now that I think about it." She answered.

"And what is the color of your deck of cards?" Miles asked.

"Uh. Red. We have a standard red deck at home." She confirmed.

"Well, it occurs to me that Mr. Yogi may have more cognitive function than you would like us to believe, Mr. Purohit. If Mr. Yogi was indeed depicting a person in a purple suit adorned with diamonds, that description would completely conflict with Miss Ruby Frost's entire outward appearance."

"Then we would need to listen to Mr. Yogi's testimony, as he might be the only one who witnessed the murderer." The Judge said. "Prepare Mr. Yogi and report back in half an hour."

"Or it is possible that red looks like purple. Mrs. Yogi was not at all paying attention to her husband or Polly. Um. Pretty Polly, the, uh, parrot. For all we know, they were playing a game of suites and the cards were utilized."

"That is conjecture – what he stated is fact. And the most obvious conclusion is that he spoke of a man in a purple suit." Miles argued.

"I agree with the defense on this," The judge said, "if there was a possibility of another person involved, we need to identify this man."

"As you wish, Your Honor." He nodded to Mrs. Yogi, "Thank you for your time, Madam."

"Oh. You are a sweet soul, aren't you? I will give you some of my dessert for free!" She said as Purohit helped her down.

"That will not be necessary." They left. Mr. Purohit did not seem too upset about having to summon Mr. Yogi, even though he fought to deny the chance.

"Well done, Miles." Gregory praised, "You continued our progress and did not lose your temper once. That is an accomplishment."

Miles' eye twitched, but he said gratefully, "Thank you, Father. I wonder what Purohit's next plan is."

"We have to assume he as the same knowledge as we do. He can attempt to manipulate the facts for as long as he wishes, but there is one truth. And we have found it." Gregory encouraged, fully accepting what they discussed yesterday as fact.

"So. The old man saw White, huh?" Ruby said. "A man in a gaudy purple suit of diamonds. Wright still asleep?"

"He was quite exhausted." Miles stated, "Do you want us to try and wake him? We have time before the next cross-examination."

"If you want to let the princess sleep, let him sleep. Oh, and Red?"

"Yes?"

"You ain't half bad out there. Looks like Wright knew what he was talking about. He must've gotten pointers from you all this time, huh?" Ruby joked, trying to ignore her own pain.

"Actually. Wright and I have not spoken until just recently. Whatever he learned, he did so elsewhere."

"Oh? Is that right?" Ruby shrugged, "I guess I shoulda asked him more about his personal life. But if he didn't learn all those things about law from you, where did he?"

". . . Ask him later. I am sure that will be an interesting story that you should hear from him. And only him." Miles deflected, knowing only a few of the lies upon lies that Phoenix and Ruby exchanged. And he was _not _going to be the mediator of that.

"Kay." She nodded. She and Gregory talked about something, but Miles wanted to know how Phoenix was doing. He made his way to the defendant's lobby, and saw Ray out looking at the snack machine.

"Highway robbery! Someone oughta take the court to court, eh Miles?"

"Let me guess? $10 for a Cinnaroll?"

"Ugh. Yeah. Rip off." He grumbled. Miles went into the privacy room and saw Phoenix asleep, now completely stretched out on the couch. Miles could not help himself – he took out his phone and found the camera mode.

"Let's see how you like your picture taken unaware, Wright." He took a single shot, but rapid mode was enabled somehow, so it took ten in a row. Miles shrugged then reviewed it. All of the images came out blurry, or flared, or with a streak down the center.

Miles muttered, "Is there something wrong with my phone's camera?"

_Is it a coincidence? Every photo of Phoenix I've seen thus far all come out marred or defected. At first, it was just that film roll was exposed to too much light, or was stored at the wrong temperature, or possibly chemicals in the darkroom leaked into the canister. Then his ID cards also had some strange imperfections. And now my camera . . . _

_It has to be just a coincidence. The lighting is poor in here or the mechanism on my device is damaged._

Miles excused the phenomenon and put his phone away. He probably should focus on the next court phase and not engage in childish diversion, anyway. Ray resumed his post and asked, "What's up, Miles? You got a weird look on your face."

"Just exhausted, Raymond. Thank you for keeping an eye on him."

"There's that formal tone of yours again! Relax, okay?"

"Ah. Yes. Quite. My apologies."

"Someone's gotta knock that autonomous response out of you. Maybe the fugitive – I mean detective – I mean prosecutor can." Raymond joked. Once Miles did not respond, he asked, "I need some fresh air. You good to stay with him for a minute?"

"Yes." Miles answered and felt relief when Raymond left again. He still tensed up when it was just him and Ray . . . He would have to figure out why later. Miles took the chair at a near desk and watched Phoenix sleep. His face was neutral – neither a smile nor a frown formed as he took a pause from the world.

Miles did not think about that earthquake five years ago all that much. When they were outside, the ground shook violently and suddenly. Gregory held him close on the pavement as they waited for the tremor to subside. The entire city lost power – perhaps it hit the powerplant? Regardless, Gregory carefully navigated the darkened streets and they spent the evening reading by candlelight.

If Miles took away anything from that incident, it was that as long as his father was close, Miles would always feel safe.


	20. Yanni

Summary:

The trial takes its next step and Miles needs to cross-examine Yanni. Before that, though, he waits for the trial to resume.

Yanni

Friday August 12th 2016 – 12:17 PM

Miles checked his watch. In another 13 minutes, the trial would resume, but Phoenix had not yet awakened. Miles would not disturb him, he decided; having Phoenix there would probably be a distraction, anyway. Or, maybe he would be helpful, considering Phoenix's extensive background. As Miles contemplated returning alone, Phoenix sat up from the couch and dug in his coat pocket.

"Morning, Wright." Miles greeted. The gesture was not returned; Phoenix did not register Miles had said anything as he dropped a notepad on his lap and then found a pen. He wrote something down, took Fiona's phone from his pocket, and pushed all three items to the floor, before slumping back down into the couch.

"What are you doing?" Miles asked, picking them up, but Phoenix was already out cold. The notepad had four numbers written down: 5341. Fiona's phone had a four-digit number lock, he noticed as the screen lit up in his hand.

_No. I am not entertaining that notion._

Miles felt an intense heartbeat, for no reason other than his principles were being tested by Wright. There was no such thing as magic, or premonitions, or whatever other paranormal explanation existed for predicting a number for a screen lock. But his thumbs proceeded to enter those numbers.

5…

_This is absurd._

3….

_There is no way this combination is going to work._

4…

_Why am I trying this?_

1….

The screen unlocked and it left Miles flabbergasted. Miles practically yelled, "How!?" But perhaps it did not matter how – only that the method worked, and Miles gladly took advantage of it. The phone had a number with no name as her last texted contact. Ruby was just below it. Naturally, Miles checked out the unlisted person first.

The text left off at what appeared to be their final exchange.

-August 10th 2016-

?: Ah. Some sense.

?: Tell me who Wright is.

Her: Call me. I got some time to spare.

That meant that Phoenix was correct. She truly did willingly give White information. He scrolled to the top of their exchanges.

-August 2nd 2016-

There was a picture attachment, sent by the 'unknown number', of a small house, 1 bed 1 bath, devastated by a fire. The house was in no way livable, as it burned most of the dwelling to ash.

?: I found you.

Her: That was you.

Her: Of course it was you.

?: Don't misconstrulate me. I am just sending my deepest condolenses for your situation.

Her: Fuck you.

?: There's that temper all three you girls have. Or, had.

Her: Fuck. You.

?: You and your sis are too much. Take care. While I find the other Frost that got away.

Her: What are you planning?

-August 8th 2016—

?: It's been a few days. How are you?

Her: I can get her to back off. Please just leave us alone.

?: No can do, amiga.

Her: I am sure there is something you want.

?: I don't need your money, honey. What's there from stopping me to ending this myself?

Her: What if I tell you she's not working alone? You let us go and you can have him.

?: As if I can't take care of some lowbrow dog.

Her: I got info on him. You play nice and it's yours.

?: The district police and prosecutioners are all mine, dear. Infos on my side. But thanks for the tidbit, doll. I'll stomp out the worm on my own.

-August 9th 2016—

?: You haven't been home. Guess its hard to live in shambles.

?: Hope you had insurance.

?: Where's little miss run off to?

Her: None of your damned business.

?: Probably with ruby. Once I see her, I'll have my men follow her. Then the two of you are going to have to come to terms with me.

?: Speechless, eh? Just the way I like my women.

-August 10th 2016—

?: Hows my girls doing today?

Her: He's going to move on you soon.

?: What, that dog?

?: as if I, the most superflendous creature in this damnable country, am afraid.

?: I'll be king of the world soon enough.

Her: Good luck with that.

?: Dear. I hold all the cards.

Her: No. I don't think you do.

?: Oh, but I do!

?: Make sure to say hi to ruby for me.

?: and glad you made it from the courthouse.

Her: How do you know where I was?

?: The right pressure in the right people gets results.

?: That info you got. Have it ready for me, k?

Her: No. I refuse.

?: Look out the window. You'll see an officer pass by your roach invested abode. Better get me that proof.

?: Or I'll have him arrest you for threatening me. 3C, right?

?: You sisters are hard to track. But I have you on house arrest now.

?: And when miss ruby comes back, I'll pay you both a visit.

?: And don't try to call her. Place your cell on the balcony so the officer can collect it.

Her: ruby is gone for the evening. It's just me. What do you want, exactly?

?: That's a damn shame.

?: I want the three of us to have a grandatious old time.

?: But, there's someone in the way. Tell me more about this Wright fellow you're living with.

Her: If I do that, will you let me go?

?: Why is there a noise complaint on you?

?: Did you do something you'll regret?

Her: I had to get into the darkroom somehow. Now. Terms.

Her: What do I have to do to survive?

?: Ah. Some sense.

?: Tell me who Wright is.

Her: Call me. I got some time to spare.

Miles was not sure what to do about this information – White put some amount of pressure on the otherwise passive Fiona. She would not have returned if White did not force her to. Using Wright as a negotiation tool angered Miles, but he could almost see why she did that.

Again, these people were not at all on the same page. They all kept secrets and they all had different and seemingly conflicting goals. Wright should have known better than to partner up with these people – although by his own admittance, he mostly just did not want Ruby to slip and make the wrong move, thus jeopardizing all that he worked toward. Little did Wright know, it was the _other _sister he should have worried about.

Then there was Purohit. Why would he hand this over, knowing this conversation existed? Perhaps the prosecutor already pieced it together himself but was obligated to try the case as the detectives saw it. Or perhaps he had more nefarious reasons to hand it over – casting doubt or infighting. Regardless, the end result would be the same – White would have to come to trial and stand as the accused.

Miles tore off the page as to not forget the digits and pocketed the phone. Miles noticed other scribblings as he went to slide the notebook into Wright's coat pocket. Miles had his own issues to deal with; the time crunch was against him. Yet there was an inquisitiveness, borne from something disreputable, emitting from within.

In essence, Miles wanted to snoop.

He flipped the page over, permitting one quick pursue, and noticed it was a map. Or the parody of one. There was a curvy line toward the edge, dotted with blackened circles, labeled as W.A, W.B, W.C and so forth. Phoenix also named the curved edge as 'Western Shorefront'. A key to the bottom explained the distances between each point in proximity to a couple of different neighborhoods.

"Shorefronts, hmm. W – as in warehouse, most likely. Something illegally imported, then?" Miles wondered aloud. He slipped the notebook into Phoenix's coat pocket, which alerted the previously sleeping man. He grabbed Miles' wrist in pure shock and frightfulness – but just as quickly released his hold once their eyes met. "You dropped this . . ." Miles said in a fluster, once the sequence of events dissipated and he was allowed to remark without his wrist being snapped like a twig. Wright had a large hand and a strong grip – something Miles hadn't taken notice of before.

Phoenix sat up and looked at the notebook and pen discarded in his lap. He mumbled, "Sorry . . ." Then pocketed it himself, before raising an eyebrow. "Did I write something down?"

"Ye-Yes. You did. The unlock code for Fiona's phone, which I believe you said you did not have access to?"

"Oh. Is that right? I must have . . . erm. Known it after all." Phoenix shrugged, glossing over the _how_ part. Phoenix looked for the phone, but must have realized he removed it from his pocket. "What was on the phone?"

"What you expected, then some." Miles said, ignoring it for now. As far as everyone's accounts went, Fiona would never voluntarily give Wright her passcode. However, Wright having preexisting knowledge made more sense than him mystifying it, however marginally.

"May I see it?" Phoenix asked politely. Miles obliged, then checked the time. "I have to go back now."

"Back? Oh! The trial!" Wright said, seeming as to have forgotten about it, then checked his own watch. "I was asleep for _how long_?"

Miles assured, "Relax. It's fine. I have everything under control."

"Okay. I can check this out at the trial." Phoenix stood up.

"You're coming with?"

"Yeah? Why not? I'll sit right behind you, in the stands, so I can toss paper airplanes at you if I get bored. Or have an idea."

"I would expect better conduct out of you." Miles warned, leaving his chair and then the room.

"Are you serious? You've met me, right?" Phoenix said as he traveled behind Miles.

"Unfortunately." Miles answered, keeping his eyes forward and hiding a smirk.

"What's this 'unfortunately' business? How's my hair?"

"A disheveled mess, much like its owner."

"Rude. I'm going to go find a bathroom to fix this."

"I will be at the trial, Wright. Do not throw paper at me, or there will be consequences."

"That just makes it even more tempting. I like 'consequences', just so you know."

Miles shook his head, "You would like that, wouldn't you?" They split off at that point and Miles found his spot at the defendant's chair. Ruby was brought in and she waved Miles over.

She spoke in a hushed voice, "Pops and his friend went back to the crime scene to look for something for me. Pops said you're in charge."

"Oh? What are they were looking for?"

". . . I never let Wright use recordings on me, but that doesn't mean I didn't set up my own. There was a bug in the hallway light. No one woulda thought to look for it. If White said anything to her, it would be captured on that."

"Oh. How . . . lovely." _Disastrous. She would hear that conversation on how Fiona sold Wright out. This secret is going to come out, no matter what we do. Then again, if White's voice does come through indistinguishable, it might be worth it._

"You don't look too happy about that, Red. Somethin' wrong?"

"Once we prove White was there, all else will come together." He answered and returned to the stand. By himself, he thought. That would be a first . . . but he was up for the task. Except that Phoenix took Gregory's place – with his hair slicked _back _instead of out, the sharp spikes resting on his shoulders. He wore those glasses but said, "Don't worry. They aren't recording."

"What are you doing?" Miles insisted.

"Standing trial with you. I didn't see your dad and I thought you might need the extra morale boost." His coat was laying neatly on a nearby chair, and his own suit was buttoned up and straightened out. The cast on his wrist stood out and Miles wondered how Phoenix managed to comb himself over with only one hand. The Judge squinted at him and had issue with it.

"Um. I am sorry. But who are you?"

"I am a legal aid. Taking notes. Don't mind me." Phoenix lied.

"Hmm. I do have some mind of you, actually. Let's see some paperwork." Miles shot him a dangerous look and felt his fingers burrow into the table, but Phoenix brought up a document for the Judge. "Oh. Okay. You're a student, then?"

"Yup."

"Hmm. Well, I will allow it then. Though it is unusual for an aid to be paired with an understudy . . . Wright. That name is familiar, somehow. Who are you, again?"

"That gavel of yours is magnificent! Is that American Cherry I spot?"

_Wright, what the hell are you doing!?_

"Oh! You have sharp eyes! Why, yes! this gavel was gifted to me by a famous handcrafter in the late 70's."

"And that spiral wrap must be tigerwood. Very honest colors – your talented friend must have had your personality down. I hear that you are one of the fairest judges in the land."

"Oh, stop it! You flatter me too much!"

"It isn't flattery, Your Honor – I am speaking my mind. For your question earlier, I am a registered prosecutor, but I think it is fair that we all learn the many rules of the court. And I would like to view it from the defense's point of view. It isn't unprecedented – many other great attorneys will take either side of the court."

"You have a good point. I'll allow it."

Miles heard Ruby mutter, "Blasted conman."

Phoenix returned to Miles with a victorious smile and left him to only sigh and keep his eyes forward.

"Where did you get that paperwork?" Miles wondered.

"I requested it ahead of time. Before I dozed off." He answered.

". . .Ah."

"Where's Ghost?" Phoenix asked, noticing his hard work was neatly arranged in a boring old briefcase.

"I wasn't going to bring that thing to court."

"Good thinking. Don't want the enemy to know where I store my stash."

"The enemy, Wright? And don't call the evidence your 'stash'. That leaves a very misleading impression."

Phoenix ignored him and changed topics, "I read that text message exchange, by the way. I tried to find a playback between her and White, but she didn't record it."

"That might not be a problem," Miles answered.

"Hm?"

The Judge slammed his gavel, then admired the intricate work on it. Phoenix wormed his way into the Judge's mind and earned themselves some extra brownie points for team defense. Miles pondered the bribery aspect of Phoenix's actions, but ultimately decided nothing was exchanged and could not count as an unlawfully act; but Wright certainly liked to push those boundaries.

"Ahem." The Judge cleared his throat, "Is the prosecution and his witness ready for testimony?"

"We are, Your Honor." Purohit said. Yanni took the stand with the pink bird, happily perched on his shoulder, stealing the entire court's attention.

"Um. Are pets allowed?" The Judge asked, hoping someone would give him an answer.

"It's a support animal, Your Honor." Mr. Purohit said. "The witness would be too stressed to speak without her."

"Can I request that we cross-examine the parrot?" Phoenix asked.

"No! Don't you _dare_!" Miles warned, causing Phoenix to stifle a giggle. _This is a nightmare._

"Squawk! Purple suit of diamonds! Squawk! Poor girl. Poor girl. Squawk!" Polly screeched.

"Can the witness keep his parrot from vocalizing during this period, please?" The Judge requested.

"She isn't squawking. She's saying the word 'squawk'. Isn't that charming?" Wright said. Miles merely rolled his eyes and wondered why people – in this case, people and their pet bird – went out of their way to be headaches. _A normal witness to examine would be nice right about now._

"Just wait 'til we get to White. That's not going to be any better," Phoenix answered, as if reading Miles' mind. "Oh. You didn't say that? Sorry, must have guessed it. My bad."

"That was a little more accurate than a guess." Miles said.

The Judge called for order once more, "We are a lively crowd today. But save it for later. Mr. Purohit, if you would please."

"Name and profession, please, witness."

"Polly the Parrot! Squawk!"

"Yanni Yogi. I run a pasta shop down by the lake. Oh. I mean. I run a rental boating down by the lake. I always wanted to serve food, but I left the stove turned on and fell asleep on the couch. Next thing I knew, the smoke detector went off and –"

"Fire in the hole! Squawk!"

Phoenix laughed, "Deep breaths, Miles. I promise this is okay."

". . . For the record, his name is Yanni Yogi and he rents out boats on Gourd Lake." Purohit said. "Mr. Yogi, please testify to the court on what you witnessed. Please refrain from speaking off topic."

Yanni said, "Well . . . It all started when Pretty Polly and I were playing a game of cards. The smell of brownies caused her to get distracted and fly all around the room. She took her favorite spot on the curtain rod, and I looked out the window.

"A car. Purple. Unusual for this neighborhood. It would have gotten broken into for screaming, 'I'm purple and rich, please rob me.' But anyway. This man comes out of the car. I see him running up the steps. A purpose. My wife commented on the loud steps and I am just watching. Purple suit."

"Purple suit of diamond!" Polly squawked.

"Purple car. Purple hair. The only color was different was them diamonds along his torso. Bright blue diamonds. You know, I think I seen him on the television before. But anyway, he is banging loudly on the neighbor's door. Louder and louder. Then a crash! She screamed. Once or twice. Then he fled. Poor, poor girl."

"Poor girl! Poor girl! Squawk!"

Purohit shook his head, "A character out of fiction. Your Honor, can we move past this?"

"A man like that sounds familiar, though." The Judge said, "I can't put my finger on it."

"Well, well. To name the culprit or let more details come out before we do. Any thoughts?" Phoenix asked.

"Mr. Yogi's testimony was more coherent than I would have expected." Miles said.

"He did leave out something crucial, though. We should dig for that, right?" Phoenix suggested.

_Something out? The car we can place at Phoenix's house and now at the crime scene. _

"Don't overthink it Miles. Besides White, what else do we need to prove?"

"Ah. Of course. The murder weapon." Miles said. He was getting ahead of the details they needed to prove still.

"I do have a question for the witness," The Judge asked. Yanni, however, did not respond. "Hmm? Mr. Yogi?" The Judge asked gently.

Yanni's eyes were closed. Slowly, his head fell forward and the feeling must have jolted him back awake, "Huh! Go Fish!"

"No threes! Go Fish! Squawk!"

"Ah, drat! You never have any – oh. Why are there so many people in my house?" Yogi asked.

Purohit reminded gently, "You are in a court of law, Mr. Yogi. You are giving testimony and a question is being directed to you as such."

"Oh. Oh of course. Yes?"

"Take a good look at the girl in the chair to your right. Do you recognize her?" The Judge asked.

"Oh! It's Penny! How are you doing, my sweet girl! Did those college boys need another hard lesson from pops?"

"Nah, pops. I can handle my own." Ruby said. "Old man thinks I'm his daughter. According to Polly, though, they never – . . . well, you know how it goes."

Purohit shook his head, "And with that knowledge, can you truly pretend to acknowledge anything Mr. Yogi presents as fact? He has an overactive imagination, that is all."

"Hmm. Before we dismiss him altogether, I do have one thing to ask. Mr. Yogi. Did you see Miss Frost at the crime scene?"

"Who is Miss Frost? She sounds lovely."

"Er. Right. Did you see Penny at the crime scene?" The Judge corrected.

"Oh, no. Penny went off to college. Hadn't seen her since . . . uh. Since . . .that morning, when I waved her off."

"Parts of that is consistent, believe it or not." Miles said to both Phoenix and the court, "Ruby went out of town that day. You can see with this receipt that she stopped for a refill in Simi Valley at 4:12 PM on the day of the murder. She was approximately 41 minutes away from Los Angeles that day."

"Nice." Phoenix said.

"Well, that does give her an alibi." The Judge admitted.

"Objection . . ." Purohit said, "But Ruby was arrested after police response showed up within minutes of the call. Though she may have been in another city at 4:00 PM, she returned home that evening. It does not prove her not the murderer."

"But it does prove that Mr. Yogi's grasp on reality is not as fragile as you propose. He saw Ruby leave. And he saw a man in a purple car arrive that evening. Mr. Yogi then describes the man who exited the vehicle in consistently great detail. Those are very specific uniformities, Mr. Purohit."

"Ruby leaving is. The man is not. He only exists as your scapegoat and the illusory Bhaya in Mr. Yogi's visions. Do you have proof of such a man existing? Your Honor, I believe we brought Mr. Yogi on to prove the existence of the weapon Miss Frost used. Which he was unable to."

"He's fighting for that dismissal." Phoenix said. "I'd stay on the attack, if I were you."

"As if you needed to tell me that." Miles smiled. He would not underestimate the knowledge Purohit had, but it was clear he would not be throwing his case away. Fair enough – Miles had no intentions on losing. "Your Honor. Ruby Frost could not have discarded a weapon in the timeline presented. If she did, the detectives would have discovered it. We have yet to establish the murder weapon, that much is true. I believe that Mr. Yogi can point it out to us, though, with further questioning."

"The right to cross-examine still belongs to the defense. Though I will say, be gentle with him. He is of an unstable mind." The Judge said.

"Of course." _I know what we need to ask, anyway. This should not take long._

Notes:

/Should not take long/ Proceeds to take a few chapters. hehe. whoops.


	21. The Male Suspect Named

Yanni Yogi gave Miles and Phoenix an accurate description of Redd White, and both of them suspected Purohit realized it as well. The transcriptionist had the testimony on the screens, as to not lose place of what was actually said.

'_Well . . . It all started when Pretty Polly and I were playing a game of cards. The smell of brownies caused her to get distracted and fly all around the room. She took her favorite spot on the curtain rod, and I looked out the window._

_A car. Purple. Unusual for this neighborhood. It would have gotten broken into for screaming, 'I'm purple and rich, please rob me.' But anyway. This man comes out of the car. I see him running up the steps. A purpose. My wife commented on the loud steps and I am just watching. Purple suit._

_Purple car. Purple hair. The only color was different was them diamonds along his torso. Bright blue diamonds. You know, I think I seen him on the television before. But anyway, he is banging loudly on the neighbor's door. Louder and louder. Then a crash! She screamed. Once or twice. Then he fled. Poor, poor girl.'_

Miles asked, "Was there anything else about the man that stood out? Was he holding anything?"

Purohit folded his arms but did not bother to raise an objection. He knew the question was completely valid and he could not overturn the inevitable. Yanni answered, "Well. I was looking more at his hair and that car. But, there was an object I believe. I didn't get a good look at it."

"An object?" Miles asked, "Did he flee with it?"

"My wife pulled me away as that happened."

Miles nodded, "You saw him come up the stairs, with the object in hand, then heard the altercation before your wife sheltered you both in the bathroom. Does this sound correct to you, Mr. Yogi?"

"Why, yes. Yes, it does." Yanni nodded.

"It does! Squawk! It does!"

"Speaking of sounds," Phoenix whispered to Miles, "That 'object' had an interesting feature. Try that angle before we move on."

Before Miles could, the Judge spoke, "Well, it does seem likely that we have another suspect. What are your thoughts, Mr. Purohit? You have been quiet during this whole process."

"My thoughts are as before. However, it does seem like Miss Ruby and Miss Fiona may have had their share of enemies. Perhaps the nature of their work brought a past client to their doorstep in a fit of rage. To the end, however, we would need another day to sort out a follow up."

"Translation: they need another day to ready a scapegoat." Phoenix said. "Well, anyway, now's a perfect time to raise an objection."

"Would you stop telling me how to do my job? It's patronizing, Wright." Miles retorted arrogantly. "Your Honor. I still have a few questions for our witness. The cross-examination has not come to a close."

"I hardly see a point to continue," Purohit said, "You have what you wanted: Another suspect. We have established new information that must be investigated, do you not agree?"

The Judge pondered it, "Hmm. Mr. Yogi could not accurately describe the object in our mysterious suspect's possession. Which means we would need to establish who we are looking for to identify the murder weapon."

"Your Honor. We should have enough to go on with what we know. just because the witness could not see the object in question, there might yet be another way to discern what the murder weapon was." Miles argued.

Phoenix chuckled quietly, "It was Mr. White, in the foyer, with the clock statue. Get a clue, Judge." Miles closed his eyes and tried not to encourage Phoenix; Miles was trying his hardest not to show he found that joke humorous. It didn't work. "Ah. Found a weakness, Miles."

"It's Mrs. White, Phoenix." Miles whispered back. "There was never a 'Mr. White'."

"Oh. Then that joke doesn't really work."

"I will let it slide." Miles retorted.

"Mr. Plum?"

"Professor Plum. You are closer."

"How did you remember that?" Phoenix asked.

"Ahem. If the defense is done whispering to each other . . ." The Judge shrugged, "You may ask one more question before we end this cross-examination and dismiss the court."

"Make it count, Miles." Phoenix encouraged.

"Hmph. Patronizing. Mr. Yogi. Can you think back to when the suspect likely entered the apartment. You heard Miss Fiona scream – do you remember _hearing_ anything else, besides her?"

Yanni went quiet for a moment. "I can't really recall. He didn't really say anything to her. Just a few grunts as he barreled down the door."

"And after that?" Miles pushed.

"I believe your one question is up." Purohit said.

"Indeed." The Judge nodded, ". . . I am sorry, defense. But this is what we have to go on now."

"I do have a question," Phoenix asked, "And this is just to anyone, really. Who has the time?"

"The time?" the Judge said. "Hm. Well, I think it's closer to 1:00 PM now. We've been at this a long time, hoho!"

"Squawk! I think the time is 6:17 PM! Squawk!"

"Aha. Gotcha." Phoenix smiled.

"Ignore him," Purohit insisted.

"Oh!" Yanni exclaimed, "That's right! Someone said the time . . . right after the second scream."

"Your Honor, the witness has answered our question. I request an extention to identify the significance of this. Please." Phoenix seemed plenty happy with himself, though Miles really had to hand it to him. His quickness to react saved them from blowing another day to the wind.

"Someone said the time after the second scream?" The Judge said. "How peculiar."

"Your Honor." Purohit objected, "That makes no difference. That in no way identifies the murder weapon, as we are trying to determine. It is an abundant waste of time."

"He wants us to prove it. I think we're up to the task." Phoenix nudged. "All yours."

"Your Honor. Do you recall an object that announced the time in similar fashion? It was a weapon used in a murder before this one. That statue had a twin."

"A . . .twin?" the Judge said.

"The 'mastermind' behind the 'Thinker Clock Statue' created a matching pair. He presented it to a friend as a gift, but it ended up in someone else's possession on August 10th."

"Now I know you are making this up." Purohit accused, "What a likely story that you two know of the murder weapon and its origin story. Then to add that a 'mysterious someone else' has it in his custody? A likely fabrication."

"And we can prove it." Miles said. "Did you really think we would say anything without evidence?" Miles was careful with what he showed to the court. He found a still shot of the video when White attacked Phoenix in Julia's office. "As you can see, here is a man who matches Mr. Yogi's description, wielding a statue – the Thinker – in a separate assault."

"Mr. Yogi," Phoenix said sweetly, "Is this the man you witnessed?"

"Yes. Without a doubt. That's him. That's the guy who done it. Poor girl."

"Squawk! Poor girl! Squawk!"

"Not such a fictious character now is he, Mr. Purohit?" Edgeworth asked smugly. "This man assaulted a person in this building, then went on to commit a murder not long after."

"And why wasn't this brought up sooner, Mr. Edgeworth?" Purohit asked, "Withholding evidence, are you?"

"The laws of court." Miles said with confidence. "This assault was a separate incident and had no established bearings to our current case until Mr. Yogi placed him there. Though we did theorize its overlap."

The Judge cut in with a gavel slam and said, "Defense! Who is that man . . .? Actually, I think I know him."

"That is Redd White." Phoenix answered, "C.E.O of Bluecorp."

"And who is he assaulting in this picture?" The Judge asked.

"Me." Phoenix answered.

"You? What is actually go on here?" The Judge asked, "Never mind! We need to bring in Mr. White immediately for questioning."

"Based on what? A picture? How can we be sure that an assault is even happening?" Purohit stated. "And we do not know why Mr. Wright was even at Bluecorp to begin with. I suppose now would be a better time to hear Mr. Wright's account – as he was the secondary suspect in this case."

"Now who is wasting time?" Phoenix said. "I have no real reason to refuse, of course. But I would expect you have White brought in as we do this. Because by the time I am done, he will be next on the stand."

"Are you sure, Phoenix?" Miles asked.

"I thought he might try this. I will be careful, don't worry."

"Very well. I order an immediate summons for Mr. White of Bluecorp." The Judge said. "Are we all in agreement on dismissing Mr. Yogi at this time?"

Miles and Phoenix nodded at one another, and Miles answered, "Yes. He was quite helpful."

"Good. Thank you for your time, Mr. Yogi."

Yanni mumbled something, then left the stands with Purohit. When the prosecutor returned alone, Phoenix took to the stand and the Judge said, "The testimony of Mr. Wright will take place in the interim. Mr. Purohit, you mentioned that Mr. Wright was the secondary suspect? Please elaborate."

"As you may recall, at the beginning of our introduction, Mr. Wright is on the lease for the unit where the murder took place. He, Fiona, and Ruby were all utilizing it at one point or another."

"Then why is Mr. Wright not arrested?" The Judge asked. So much for brownie points.

"The established time of the murder conflicts with an alibi of his. He was at the Hotti Clinic during the estimated time of events."

"You were . . . injured?" The Judge asked. "Oh! Because you were assaulted!"

"Exactly. You are absolutely correct, Your Honor." Brownie points saved. Miles laughed internally. _You gave phoenix a chance to speak without repercussion. That was a mistake, Purohit._

". . . Anyway. Mr. Wright's arrest was dropped due to this alibi. That doesn't prevent us from questioning his movements at Bluecorp for the last several months. You will note that he has a severe lack of employment records; at least, under the name Phoenix Wright."

_Hmm. So he did know about the aliases. Interesting._

Purohit continued, "He worked at Bluecorp under a different name. Gervais Verrier. He worked on translation documents from different languages into the English one, and vice versa. Why, you ask? To illegally obtain records from Bluecorp. He ran an identity fraud and stole a variety of information from Bluecorp."

"Oh." The Judge said. "Well that's certainly screams illegal activity. Mr. Wright, do you have anything to say about these claims?"

"One, the name 'Gervais Verrier' was legally sanctioned. Two, I was given permission to use it in my investigation into Bluecorp. Three, I never took documents during this, merely gathering intel for my own recount. Four, if you unlock all of my past employment records, you will find that I am a detective pulled from overseas by Interpol and a prosecutor in training. So, in short, let me see where the name I used in that investigation was illegally used and what I stole from Bluecorp."

"You were what?" Ruby said.

"Cat's out of the bag. Sorry Ruby. Purohit. What do you have to gain by asking me this?" Phoenix asked.

"Yes. Undercover work sanctioned by another prosecutor and police department. You were waiting until you passed the bar and then open an investigation into Bluecorp on your own. It is true that you mostly were just snooping. But, there are things that you _did _take."

". . . And what would those be?" Phoenix asked.

"Photographs. Videos. Of certain transactions. You were giving them back to Interpol. That is how they found a few . . . warehouses, correct? You were leaking information from one investigation and pouring it into another. A job that you were removed from, is that correct?"

Phoenix remained silent. _Warehouses?_

"Does the 'Western Shorefront' ring a bell to you?" Purohit asked.

_That map in his notebook._

"I would be careful with what you reveal, Mr. Purohit. That whole business is under a very strict confidentiality clause."

"Then I will say this much . . . your investigation into Bluecorp crossed into an illegal agreement between both you and Interpol. That will come at a price, later. The only point I am trying to make is – after this trial is over – you will not be able to prosecute Bluecorp under those specific actions you took."

"You are very much mistaken, Mr. Purohit. I did not report my findings to Interpol. I reported them to my Mentor."

"Your Mentor?" Purohit said.

"The contract I signed was with Chief Skye and it states that I will report my findings directly to her. And she _is _working with Interpol, in a much different way than I was."

"Then your Mentor in the States is Chief Skye . . ." Purohit said.

"Ah. It's no surprise that you didn't know that." Phoenix took a step backwards, "Our relationship wasn't publicized. But, she trained me under the American court system while I worked toward passing the bar. I also gathered intelligence at Bluecorp during this time. If what I found got into Interpol's hands, then that is an entirely different matter altogether. And really has no consequences against me, or Interpol, or Chief Skye."

"You were just the middleman." Purohit laughed. "Of course."

"What I would like to know is where you learned about all that Interpol stuff?" Phoenix flipped it back on Purohit. "What? I know I've never seen you contracted through Interpol before. Or has that changed?"

"I came here of my own accord." Purohit said. "I was given access to your records in order to learn your movements at the time you were still a high suspect."

"Hmm. Your own accord, huh?" Phoenix contemplated something.

"I do not have much more knowledge." Purohit said. "Just what was needed."

"Got it. Great. Anything else you wanna ask, Purohit?"

_What, you're just going to let that go, Wright? He named the shorefront, which could not be a legal move. He already violated confidentiality. _

"No. That is all." Purohit said.

The Judge blinked several times. "So. Uh. What did we establish here, exactly?"

"That I am not at all at fault for anything he tried to throw at me. It was a decent attempt, though." Phoenix shrugged.

"What about the assault, then?" The Judge asked.

Purohit said, "Your Honor. I think we should call a recess and cover that when Mr. White arrives."

"How long will that be?" The Judge asked.

"Give me an hour."

". . . Okay. Court is adjourned until 2:00 PM. Dismissed."

Phoenix asked Miles, "Can I have my phone?"

"Why didn't you continue with Purohit?" Miles asked.

"I think I have him figured out. He does have a motivation in this." Phoenix grabbed the bag and located his phone. He opened up Fiona's phone as well, and called the mysterious number that was connected to that text chat.

"What are you doing, Wright?"

". . . Listen." Phoenix held out the phone and it said, 'The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected.'

"So, White disposed of that phone number. What of it?"

Phoenix shook his head. He grabbed his laptop and loaded it up. While he did that, Ruby came up to the pair and he quickly pocketed her sister's phone.

"You're law enforcement?" She accused in a very angry voice. "Fucking _law enforcement_?"

"Yeah. About that . . ." Phoenix murmured. She did not look very pleased.

"The hell, Wright? You know how I felt about them!"

"Why do you think I never said anything?"

"You fucking underhanded liar!"

"And when exactly were you going to tell me Fiona returned?" Phoenix brought up as his counterpoint. "I believe you told me you 'wanted some privacy'?"

"That's completely different! That was none of your business to begin with."

"Oh really? Why _did _she come back? Did she ever tell you?" Phoenix asked.

"She just told me she planned on leaving the country. She wanted me to go with her and I told her I wasn't going anywhere until White was behind bars."

"Okay. And you couldn't tell me that a whole week ago because?"

"She . . . requested that you didn't know." Ruby said.

"Do you know why she requested that?"

"No." Ruby said, then grumbled, "Probably cuz she pegged you for a liar."

Phoenix rolled his eyes dramatically and went to his hidden folders. "Purohit is protecting White and I think I know why. Not because he's being blackmailed, but because he thinks White knows something he wants information for."

"You just gonna ignore me?" Ruby said.

"Look, you and I can have a screaming match later. I need to get this squared away now." Phoenix stared her down, "Or, we can scream at each other now, because it looks like you're set on it."

Miles stepped away from the pair, crossed his arms, leaned into the backboard, and observed the escalating fight from a safe distance. He _was not _standing in the crossfires of that. He agreed with Phoenix and was very curious as to what he might have deduced from Purohit, but Ruby was out for her own grilling. Whatever came from it, Miles just hoped the two of them would be alright at the end of it.


	22. Trojan Horse

Trojan Horse

Friday August 12th 2016 – 1:17 PM

"Okay, enough!" Phoenix shouted, "I have too much to do to deal with this. You have problems? Don't we all, Ruby."

"Oh, no! That ain't gonna fly, boy." She was as red in the face as her namesake's coloration. She still wanted a piece of Phoenix after that last discovery. Miles saw this coming at the start, when he realized that Phoenix and Ruby equally shared lies and secret lives and could only suspect when the situation would come to head.

"Miss Frost." Miles inserted himself, clocking it at ten minutes of wasted time and would allow no more than that. "Your trial is still very ongoing. If we do not figure out Purohit's play, they _will _pass the suspect to someone else. Prioritize."

"Fuck off, Red. You were in on this, too."

Miles sighed, "Do not address me with such foul language. I had nothing to do with Wright's decisions to not to tell you what his past was. Until last night, I did not know, either. So, perhaps instead of beating a dead horse, we can focus on what will actually move our lives forward?"

Ruby folded her arms and refused to address either of them. Fortunately, Phoenix accepted that and said, "Purohit accidently told me a lot. You recall when that parrot said the time, repeating the phrasing of the Thinker Clock, and how Purohit said to 'ignore it'? He knew about the murder weapon."

Miles nodded, "I noticed that, too. Purohit should have never come into contact with that statue. There is something else, though."

"Okay? What?" Phoenix invited.

"When did Purohit learn of your alias? Was it before the investigation began or during it? That changes another aspect we need to consider. In conjunction to who told White about your position."

"That's fair." Phoenix nodded. "That. There was some vague conversation, but it was mostly . . . Ruby. You listening?"

"What do you want, Wright?" She barely acknowledged him. Phoenix gave Miles a look that asked, _Should we tell her about the phone?_

"It is going to come up." Miles said. "Let us deal with this now."

". . .Right." Phoenix delayed for a moment, then found the courage to retrieve the phone from his pocket. "Ruby. Do you recognize this?"

"That's Fi's. Why do you have it?"

". . .There is a conversation that you probably should read." Phoenix unlocked the phone and handed it over to Ruby. She looked it over and the redness in her face paled.

"What is this?" She said.

"Fiona had a conversation with someone. Looks like her house was the target of an arson. Did you know?" Phoenix asked.

"No. She never said – so that's why she was scared." Ruby bit her lip. Miles decided against saying something to the affect of none of them knew what honesty was – and he instead focused on the next phase of their trial.

"Wright. You were going to say something about that phone number."

"Yeah." Phoenix went back to his laptop. Ruby was eerily silent as she took in that conversation. "I have access to a lot of databases. Cellphone records included . . . if I type in that number Fiona talked to . . . I get this back." Phoenix turned his laptop around. The name attached to it was not who Miles expected.

"Who is Noah Beatty?" Miles asked.

"A person who has no bearings on this case. Let me explain." Phoenix said. "This phone came under White's possession at some point. Probably as a theft. If I could look up the phone number and realize this, then so could Purohit."

Miles asked. "Why would White use that phone instead of his own? To cover his tracks?"

"Exactly. But, even more than that. Since Purohit handed us this phone, he expected up to use it at some point. And if we tried to use it as evidence that Fiona had an enemy that week . . . this phone would show Mr. Beatty. Not White."

Miles folded his arms. "That would cast doubt on our argument."

Phoenix nodded, "We would have handed the prosecution another person to arrest on probable suspicion and abruptly ended our pursuit for White in one move. This was his checkmate. A Trojan Horse in play."

Miles closed his eyes, "Of course. White writes the same way he talks; so much so, that we never needed to fact check this. It was an assumption on our part to think that number would tie directly to White. Him returning that phone was never an act in good faith."

"Exactly. Purohit wants to make sure White does not take that stand. That, however, is impossible now. I don't think he realized we had evidence of White committing other crimes."

"And that witness who described his presence so perfectly for us." Miles smiled confidently.

"Yes. I had no idea he existed, but good thing for it. Purohit's powerplay is no longer as effective, but we should be ready to prove that White is the one who wrote those messages." Phoenix said.

"And how do we go about doing that?" Miles asked.

"Well. You touched on it a moment ago. White's speech pattern is distinctive. Recognizable. But we should learn more about Beatty – if their paths only crossed due to a lost phone, then that should be telling enough."

Miles asked, "Do you suppose Purohit has a more concrete way to tie Beatty to the crime scene? Miss Frost, does Noah Beatty sound familiar to you?"

"I have never heard that name in my life." She shook her head and squeezed the phone tightly in her hand. "And this is definitely White."

"Are you okay?" Miles questioned, attempting to be considerate of her feelings.

"No. Looks like Wright wasn't the only one telling lies." She shook her head. "Damn it all. I should have known . . ."

"Way to single me out." Phoenix mumbled, "So. Purohit's hand is shown. He knows about the statue. He knows some confidential things about a different ongoing Interpol case. And, he is willing to convict someone else as the murderer."

Miles considered that new angle. He then pointed out, "You said it yourself, Wright. You believed Purohit is acting on his own, without threat of blackmail. Why?"

"That shorefront. I made an assumption that I think Purohit might prove false . . . interestingly, enough."

"Oh? You made a mistake, then?"

"Don't smirk when you say that! But, it's possible. Of the many warehouses along that shoreline, we only managed to make three arrests. The others had time and opportunity to dodge a proper investigation and erase evidence."

"Yes. I believe you said that before." Miles nodded. "So, what is the fatal false assumption, then?"

Phoenix asked. "Hah. You really are an asshole, sometimes. I think the assumption that I made is that only one organization utilizes that shorefront."

"The organization you are investigating being the one. . ."

"And the one Purohit has been pursuing. So, at least two." Phoenix shrugged, "It's possible. We have hit roadblock after roadblock with that front. If _two _organizations have command over it . . . well, that would certainly complicate things, wouldn't it?"

"And they both happen to cross over with Bluecorp? That is a stretch of the imagination." Miles found it hard to believe that three different, illegal organization would operate friendly with one another within the same territory.

"White's baseline is money. If he found a profit in it, he would look the other way." Phoenix countered. "Unlikely or not, that shorefront is a good way for illegal product to come into the country. Illegal product that's good for the underground businesses."

"So, I was right then." Miles felt like he won something over Wright, "Illegal imports."

"Oh. Oops. But, yes." Phoenix played with his cast and then said, "White has power in this state. Other organizations see that power and cut deals with him. White gets a 30% profit cut as well as a payment for legal aid. Everyone is happy in their shady businesses."

"They pay him that much?"

"Can't turn a profit if the pesky police and foreign affairs keeps trying to barge in, right? That's the problem. Interpol is queued to be the last to act because of the American rules. They send in their frontline, which is police task force, and they cover up anything useful Interpol can use . . . it's running in circles, hoping to catch them in a lie."

"Ah. That's why you became a prosecutor here. So you would have those same first access claims." Miles said.

"Yes. 'If this was going to take much longer, I might as well', I thought all those months ago. I cut ties with Interpol so I could cover more ground as a regular, old, prosecutor, PI, detective . . . art student."

Miles merely shook his head. This Phoenix Wright was more than he could ever have imagined. Wright was an entertaining act, at least, and proved useful in these situations. "Why would Purohit protect White?"

"That is a good question. I never found evidence of more than one organization. So perhaps Bluecorp isn't where that evidence exists." Phoenix answered.

"Then if it exists, it does so apart from Bluecorp?"

"And solely with White. If White is imprisoned, then Purohit loses his lead."

"You can't be serious. That's his reasoning?" Miles furrowed his brow. "A person like that behind bars should only open investigation access, correct?"

"It doesn't seem like Purohit agrees with you." Phoenix said. He then accessed some other files. "There is probably something insubstantial to what Purohit learned and needs more time to weed it out."

"And condemn someone else for murder to buy back that time?" Miles did not care for that explanation.

"Or, at least, find deniability for White. If Purohit can get close enough to White by proving him an effective prosecutor, then Purohit can continue to hunt for what he's after. It's not just. But Purohit does not care. I guarantee it."

"And how did you come to these conclusions?" Miles interrogated.

"Those trafficking rings were dismantled, and a suspect was arrested. The assumed second in command, however, could not be tied to it and went free. Purohit has been pursuing it since."

"Then those warehouses . . . You think that they are selling people?" Miles shook his head, "Surely not in this country."

"Yes, Miles. Even in this country . . ." Phoenix pulled up a profile. "This is the man that went free. He is American born and returned here when things went south overseas."

Miles looked at the profile. A 35-year-old by the name of Manuel Traf. The face of a human trafficker stared unnervingly blank in his profile.

Phoenix explained, "This case is Purohit's only focus. And he thinks that Interpol agents are getting in the way. Why do you think he tried to implicate me and Interpol for mishandling confidential information?"

"That is still no reason to let a murderer walk free." Miles argued, resolute on believing in his own sense of justice. "Also, he spoke a little too freely before, did he not?"

"Probably. I don't know what else Purohit will try, so we should be careful and cover what we do know. I am going to look into Noah Beatty and maybe give him a call."

"His phone is turned off, though." Miles stated.

"He's got a home phone. Let's see. . ." Phoenix dialed a number and walked away from them. While he pulled information from Beatty, Miles turned his attention to Ruby. He did not want to ask 'how are you' a thousand times, but Miles genuinely had no idea what else to say at times like this.

Ruby broke the silence for him. "What?" She stated aggressively. Ruby gave him nothing to work with, and Miles wished that the silence would continue. Instead, he would have to engage her and hope he found the correct thing to say.

"I am sorry that Fiona was involved in this. It came as a shock to us as well." Miles said. Ruby fixated on Wright, her eyes speaking for her. Miles urged her to forgive him, though. "Phoenix never meant to bring harm to either of you. Quite the opposite. He said he wanted the keep the two of you away from White's attention."

"Fiona lived with her boyfriend. The house they lived in was under his name. White still found her." Ruby lamented. ". . .I should have considered leaving when she begged me to. Maybe she'd still be alive."

"I do not know. It is hard to say, since White believes himself to be above the law, he may still have continued the same course of action."

"And it's the fucking truth." Ruby growled, "That Purohit was about to damn an innocent man on White's orders. Can you tell me how White isn't above the law!?"

Miles clenched his jaw. He could not. This White had too many people bowing to him – even Interpol could not get around his goons, he was that much of an influential pest. "White will not get away with it again. We have him on the stands and will not relent."

"I have no choice but to trust you."

Phoenix hung up the phone. Instead of returning to Ruby and Miles, though, Phoenix made a follow up call. So, Miles would have to buy him more time . . . "Miss Frost. I assure you on this: Phoenix and I want White to confess his crimes and pay the price for them."

"Hah! That Wright . . . I thought I had him figured out. Guess he had me all along." Ruby blinked a few times, "What happens to me if you fail?"

"If they are given the chance, Purohit and White will fabricate a murder weapon and bring Mr. Yogi's testimony into disrepute. The Judge has our first evidence of White and follows our logic, for now. Recanting this back to you would take more reprehensible acts on Purohit's part; however, it should not happen, because we do have proof of White's hand in this."

"And I almost believe you. Almost."

Miles gave an impudent shrug and said, "I do not need your belief to succeed. It is clear who the criminal is – we just need to carry on the pursuit." Yes. Whatever lies Purohit tried next, Phoenix and Miles already had evidence to back White's guilt.

"Cocky. That's how I roll, though." Ruby approved, "If you give him anything less than hell, I'm gonna be majorly disappointed."

"You will not be. Exposing the truth will be White's due damnation." Miles promised. Ruby seemed contented by this declaration and Wright finished another phone conversation. Phoenix returned to them and opened his email. Miles asked, "What are you doing?"

"Waiting on a response."

"Did you speak with Mr. Neatty?" Miles questioned.

"Beatty. And I did. He lost his phone around a week ago. Last time he saw it was before one of White's motivational speeches. It's not a coincidence."

"So, what did you tell him to receive that explanation?" Miles wondered.

"That I suspected his old number was used in a scam and that he should report it. I then requested Chief Skye to look for him so we can use it later."

"I thought you were not going to receive aid from her?" Miles recalled that contractual clause.

"That was when I was a suspect. Now that I'm out of that position, she's able to provide _some _help. I can't keep relying on her, though. She'll stop answering me at some point."

"This is your mentor providing her assistance?" Miles raised an eyebrow. "She seems callous to the role."

"She did that for convenience. Not much else. Look, I don't have a very close bond with her. But she wants what we do, so I can at least expect some support from her." Phoenix answered.

"Convenience? And what did she have to gain from this arrangement?"

"A trained outsider with no connections to the detectives or prosecution. After this, that convenience will no longer apply." Phoenix quickly reacted to an email and saved its contents to his folders.

"Why would she care about something like that?" Miles felt like they were scratching the surface of something, though he was still unsure what. All of these prosecutors seemed to have goals, though hardly any of them aligned with righteousness and justice.

"You would be surprised. Anyway. I got what I needed. Purohit requested my history the day _after _the crime. To answer your earlier question, I have no definitive proof that he knew my alias before White approached me."

Miles hated to say anything about Fiona in response, especially since Ruby stood next to them. He then decided to just express, "I still do not trust Purohit. His willingness to comply with White is more than enough reason."

Ruby shook her head. "Just end White. End this disaster."

"We will." Phoenix said in a positive tone. "We should eat, though. We still have a lot to get through."

"I will call Father. They should be done scoping out the microphone." Miles went to dial his father's phone. Phoenix was right, they were looking at working a full day at this point. He should have expected it, really.

Cross-Examining White and revealing that man for what he was brought an unusual excitement to Miles. It was long past due to convict White for all his crimes and they had all the evidence to corner him. It would all play out, soon, and he had Phoenix to thank for it. It wasn't so strange for Miles to feel that he could rely on Phoenix. For most of his memory as children, Phoenix was undeniably dependable.


	23. Perception

Chapter 23: Perception

Notes:

Some spoilers to investigations 1. A certain culprit during one of the chapters is named.

Friday August 12th 2016 – 1:29 PM

"Father," Miles called, waiting to check in with their current errand and request lunch.

"Miles. Hey, before you say anything, I want to inform you that Ray and I found ourselves in a spot."

"What happened? Are you okay?" Miles said in a worry, getting Ruby's attention as well.

"Yes. Yes, we're fine. However, a couple of detectives are also here with us. I do not want to be an alarmist, but Ray and I are watching them so they do not try to plant evidence. He is chatting them up right now."

"So, you cannot leave until they do. Marvelous." Miles sighed. Even without that recording, they should have enough evidence to place White at the crime. It would do them even less justice to have those detectives tamper with the crime scene, so Raymond and Gregory keeping them honest was a stroke of luck. "We have an extension on the trial. It will resume and White will take the stand, so to keep them from manipulating the scene, you might just have to wait it out."

Gregory laughed in a way that sounded both proud and impressed, "That was quick, Miles. You are doing well. Good, very good."

Miles blushed at the praise. "I would not have done so well without Phoenix here."

Gregory went quiet for a moment, then said, "It does seem as though I misjudged him at the beginning. Who would have guessed that the actions of an undercover detective would mirror a criminal's activities so perfectly?"

That reminded Miles that he needed to discuss that with Phoenix when a more opportune time arose. For now, he said, "Yes. Phoenix is rather unorthodox, is he not?"

"That is not a bad thing. I do have questions yet remaining." Gregory said, "But that can wait."

"Agreed." Miles nodded, though the action went unseen to his father.

Gregory said, "I may be able to leave this in Raymond's capable hands so I can return that piece of evidence to you."

Miles blinked and asked, "Will Ray be safe on his own?"

"Ray can handle himself."

"We must assume that it is White's men employed. We need to be careful." Miles corrected, "You said it yourself, before this all began."

"I did, didn't I? Ray and I will discuss our next move and then I will let you know what we decide."

"Okay. Thank you, Father." Ruby still had her eyes trained on Miles when he hung up his phone.

"Everythin' good, Red?" She asked. "Your pops and friend are good?"

"Yes. And may they stay that way." He answered. She chuckled a little bit, forgetting her situation for a moment.

"What? The things you say are funny."

Miles ignored her and watched for Phoenix to regroup. Miles lost count of how many different phone calls and emails he sent in the span of a few minutes, but that was okay. Miles trusted that whatever it was that Phoenix prepared them for would be beneficial.

Right. Phoenix was dependable in a way that he only expected from his father.

"What's the word?" Phoenix asked as he entered the group with a smile.

"Confident." Miles said in observation of Phoenix, though he meant to keep that internal. "Hm. Anyway, Father and Ray are stuck at your apartment. White's men are acting suspicious and Father suspects they mean to manipulate the crime scene to their benefit."

"Ah." Phoenix nodded with his hand on his chin, "Sounds about right. Will they be alright on their own?"

"Father seems to think they will be, so I will have to trust them."

Phoenix's smile left and worry took over his eyes. "I can request backup for them if you think they're in danger."

"Oh." That was an option, wasn't it?

"I am on good terms with Lang again, so he'll be happy to do me a favor – ah, well, not happy, but still. He'll assist."

"Okay. If you can, I would appreciate it." Miles said. He already felt relief from agents discouraging any chance of foul play.

"No problem. Give me a sec." Phoenix was on his phone again, "Yo, it's me. Yeah, so soon. Hey, can you do me a favor? . . . I know, I know! You won't regret it, though. I got some lead on good old Traffy. Yeah, give me like, a couple of hours and I'll squeeze the info out of my lead. . . . _Technically, _but jeez, let me work and I'll get those results. Uh-huh. You know my apartment? Yeah, that one. Mr. Edgeworth and Mr. Shields could use your protection again. I know you're not, but again, it's worth your time. Yeah, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. Thanks! You're a real life saver, you know that?" And the phone call ended.

"'Traffy'?" Miles asked, "Is that not what you discerned Purohit's true target is, merely moments ago? Is it presumptuous to promise those results? From Purohit no less, who has made it clear that he wanted Interpol removed from that investigation?"

"Strike while the iron's hot, Miles. I'm gonna have a chat with him real soon. Unfortunately, he's with White, but I think I can convince him _after _this trial's over." Miles folded his arms. He did not necessarily disapprove, but Wright's methods were pushing that line of acceptability again. Phoenix smiled, unphased, and said, "You're really pretty when you do that. Once Lang knows _who _I am talking about, that information's coming out, regardless. I'm much gentler about it."

"So that is why you were lenient with him." Miles felt his pointer finger tap against his arm as he purposefully disregarded Phoenix's 'pretty' comment.

"Opportunity and confidentiality. If Traf is actually selling people Stateside, he's not getting away with this a second time. I can promise you that."

Depravity. The thought of it made Miles ill, but he kept up appearances. "And you believe Purohit will simply tell you all that he supposedly knows?" Miles argued, starting to feel more stern as Phoenix's plan came to light.

"Not without a lil teeth pulling. It'll be alright, either way. You see, Purohit may have his badge and can legally prosecute in this country, but his rights here can be denied. Lang has a . . . special way stripping people of their perceived power. If Purohit's mission is at stake, he will abandon his old plans for new ones. He will cooperate, in the end."

"Well, if you insist that it will play out as such, I will leave it alone." Miles left out his mixed thoughts on the moral standing of how that sounded. Purohit was not a saint, either, so Interpol must combat that with their own methods.

"Thanks." Phoenix's smile returned in a softer way, "You don't have to worry about that. It's on me if Lang's mad about it."

Ruby added to the conversation, "You're forgetting that slime ball prosecutor set someone else to take the murder rap. You tryna tell us he's a good man at heart? I don't buy it."

"I am in agreement with our client." Miles said.

"Who knows more than she should. Oh well." Phoenix shrugged, "I never said that Purohit was a good man."

"Do you trust him?" Miles asked, looking for more of a clarification on Phoenix's thoughts.

"Not in the least." Phoenix assured. "But, I do know what he's after. Everything else is secondary to him."

"And you plan on using that against him. That is your business, then." Miles said in finality.

"Hm. Unfortunately, it is. Maybe you can cross train into an Interpol agent, and I can share all of those details with you."

"I think I will pass on that." Miles said. He had no interest in branching out to something that was not the Edgeworth's Law Offices.

"Well, you know where to find me if you decide otherwise." Phoenix said. "For now, I think I will settle with seeing you in court."

"And by that, you mean . . .?" Miles inquired. Phoenix chuckled, giving no indication of a real response. Miles scoffed, then changed his question, "How many current cases does that make for you now?"

"I dunno. Lost count." Phoenix shrugged. As far as Miles could tell, that was not a lie.

"How do you possibly keep all of that organized?"

"Surprisingly easily." Phoenix pursed his lips. "I guess it helps that I relay it to my team lead until I'm called for court. Then I have my notes."

"Called for court as a prosecutor?" Miles asked.

"Or the lead detective, but yeah, pretty much. This is the first time I've been on the defense's side. Well, technically considered on the defense's side. I like being your aid, though."

"What do you mean by 'technically considered'?"

"Oh. That. Were you expecting me to at one point dole out a pitch about some perfect court record?" Phoenix winked. "That's not the truth of it. Sometimes the defense is in the right. Sometimes they're doing what they can to acquit a scumbag. In any case, there's only so much evidence can do before a person looks less and less guilty."

"So, you have purposefully _lost _your cases before?" Miles raised an eyebrow.

"Not _purposefully _in the sense that I laid down and abandoned my duties. My job is to pitch the perfect scenario with the evidence at hand. If the evidence doesn't match, I'm not going to make up things just to get a win."

_That is reasonable. I suppose I should not be so surprised, though. _Miles thought and nodded.

Phoenix said after Miles nonverbally approved, "At the end of the day, it's not my life that is ruined by a wrong guilty verdict."

"And what about the opposite? What about a wrong not guilty verdict?" Miles asked in test of what Phoenix's own experiences were.

"There's a saying, 'better a guilty man go free than an innocent man left to rot' . . . or something like that."

"Not quite. You're referring to Blackstone's ratio: 'It is better that ten guilty persons escape than that one innocent suffer'."

"Eh. Close enough." Phoenix said. Miles studied him closely, but could not find a trace of him obscuring his beliefs behind a front. For all that Phoenix went through, he genuinely believed in that statement. "Why did you choose to be a prosecutor, then? Your belief aligns more with a defense attorney."

"Not necessarily. We can never truly know one way or the other who is guilty and who is innocent. Sometimes it's blurred behind circumstantial 'evidence', and we have to make do. But, to answer your question, I enjoy the chase. Unfortunately, being a defense attorney is more of a passive role."

"Hmph. That is not necessarily true, either, Phoenix." Miles recounted the number of times his job put him in a perilous situation.

As if Miles telepathically shared that information with Phoenix, he said, "That's not quite the same thing. Reactive in the event of a cornered suspect, but it wasn't your intended end goal; but a person suddenly waving a gun at you in a way to escape is tangible proof, so long as you survive the encounter."

Miles shuddered. Not only did he picture Calisto Yew aiming a gun at him, pulling the trigger without remorse, and marginally missing him, Miles pictured it just before Phoenix described a similar hypothetical event. The timing was uncanny. Miles did not address it, though, leaving it as just another strange coincidence.

Phoenix had a neutral expression, but his eyes were ever fixed on being warm and inviting, while holding concern. He voiced the reason for it, though, and suggested, "You should call your father back. Let him know about Lang and make sure he's still okay."

"Oh." Miles looked at his phone and realized his father never called back. "Right. Thank you."

"Anytime." Phoenix assured, then checked his own devices for who knows what. Miles redialed Gregory and felt his stomach rumbled in the same second. The body had many needs and it began to vocalize one of them. They needed to use that last thirty minutes to eat _something _before it became a hindrance.

#

Friday August 12th 2016 – 1:36 PM

Ruby and Miles waited in a lobby, while Phoenix picked up sub sandwiches for lunch. Gregory would return on his own while Raymond and Lang kept the detectives under White's payroll from tampering with the crime scene.

"You tolerate him well." Ruby said.

"Who, Wright?" Miles sat down, neatly smoothing out his pants before descending.

"Yeah. Relentless flirt that he is."

"Hm." _She must be referring to that 'pretty' comment from before._

"You said you were 'friends' right?" She pried.

"We are. I suppose he slipped one comment through by mistake."

"Ah." Ruby took to looking out the window. The view would have been nicer if there were not bars in the way. "He learned real quick not to say anythin' stupid around me."

"He said that your relationship is a professional one. Or did he lie?" Miles asked.

"He flirts, but I don't think he really means anything by it." She shrugged, "I think he just enjoys banter more than anything. Still, I'm not a person to play that with."

_He enjoys banter? Well, he is certainly in the correct field for that, then._ With that realization, Miles now knew why Phoenix would look forward to 'seeing' him in court. Miles smiled. If it was a game he was after, then Miles would play along.

Phoenix returned moments later. He passed along food and bottled drinks, all in a bag wrapped around his strong, unbroken wrist. Before too long, they were sharing a quick meal together.

"I don't get it," Ruby said, mulling about something after taking a bite of her own food, "Why can't they Houdini a weapon and claim that they found it at the scene?"

"Pics or it didn't happen." Phoenix explained.

"What?" Miles asked.

"If they don't take a picture of _where _they allegedly found it, their word amounts to garbage. If they're gonna fabricate, they're gonna need to take some extra steps."

"Like planting it in that dumpster behind the building and documenting it?" Ruby caught on.

"Exactly like that. Grab some of the victim's hair, skin, or blood from a lab sample and slap it on like a sticker. Oh. Sorry." Phoenix realized that image might have been horrifying to hear, especially if Ruby pictured Fiona's body being violated further to cover up her own murderer's involvement.

_Because the rod had blood on it, White had to have rolled it in her wound to make it more believable. _Miles closed his eyes, revolted by the imagery.

"It's alright. Very informative. Strange how much you know about forging evidence, though." Ruby took a slurp of her coke to hide a sly smile.

"I have _never _forged any evidence." Phoenix took that accusation seriously, "I just know what to look for."

"Suure." She winked. Phoenix rolled his eyes, but a smile of his own emerged. They were fine after all, thankfully. Ruby neglected to show her own suffering while the trial continued, but Miles was sure she would feel it later, if her regret and second guessing had anything to say about it.

The officer let himself in and said, "Miss Frost, it is time for you to come back."

"Yeah, yeah." She stood up and smiled at the two boys.

"This will be over soon, Ruby." Phoenix promised.

"I know." She seemed a lot calmer now than she was before. She and the officer left, leaving Miles and Phoenix to discuss any last-minute thoughts.

"He's gonna be pissed to see me." Phoenix chuckled.

"White?" Miles guessed.

"Oh, you know it." Phoenix stood up first and took care of the trash. "He might be expecting it. If he's not, make sure to watch his face. It's the best part."

"And why is that?"

"It's like they've seen a ghost. They go pale and wide-eyed. It's the most glorious thing in the world. Well. Second to you."

"Wright." Miles frowned, "I thought we agreed to no more flirting."

"Oh, did we? My mistake. I will keep those thoughts to myself, then." Phoenix said and left it at that.

"Thank you. And about this strange obsession with petrifying your indicted . . . can you please dial it back?"

Phoenix exhaled, "Fine. Just this once." He seemed greatly disappointed, like Miles quelled his enthusiasm; however, Miles needed to adhere to his own sense of professionalism. There was a question that Miles had, though, in regards of Phoenix's phrasing. _I will keep those thoughts to myself_, he said.

_So, you will still have them even if they are not voiced?_

Phoenix met Miles' gaze and said, "Yes."

_I did __**not **__say that aloud. How is he doing that? _It was becoming harder for Miles to ignore it. A coincidence was one thing – Phoenix answering an internal thought was completely another. They walked together in a hushed silence before Miles inquired, "Why do you even have those thoughts to begin with?"

"Hmm? What thoughts?"

"Do not play innocent, Wright. You know which ones. Those flirtatious ones."

"Do you want an honest answer to that?" Phoenix asked. "I'm not sure you'd like it."

"Well, it would be hard to maintain a friendship if I am constantly concerned with what goes on behind the scenes." Miles argued, though he started to waver in his own confidence. _Maybe this is one of those instances where I should not question it too much._

It was too late for Miles to take back, though. Phoenix responded, "Good point. It's because you are attractive and I like you more than I probably should. Anything else?"

"How do you say that with a straight face and then go on pretending like nothing of importance was said?"

"Because if I acted like it was something, it would make you uncomfortable?" Phoenix batted his eyes innocently, but Miles was onto him.

"I thought you enjoyed mindless banter?" Miles asserted, trying to sum up what he and Ruby discussed earlier.

"I like mindful banter more than mindless. What's your point?"

"So, you flirt just for that purpose – to banter."

Phoenix laughed. "Sometimes."

"I do not wish to participate in this." Miles made himself clear.

"And I agreed to stop." Phoenix replied.

"I would like for those thoughts to end as well." Miles added one more stipulation.

"I can't just switch it off." Phoenix and Miles saw their door. More foot traffic prevented them from speaking in a normal tone, but luckily hushed whispers were normal for lawyers, so they didn't stand out. "I can keep it to myself, but I can't stop those thoughts from happening."

Miles squinted, as if he caught Phoenix in a lie. "Why not?"

"I am guessing you weren't taking me seriously the last few times I spelled it out. It's fine. I'll say it again." Phoenix stretched his back and arms before he explained concisely, "I am in love with you and always have been."

Miles took a step back. He then said once he caught his breath, "That's not a very clever joke, Wright."

"It isn't a joke." Phoenix responded. "Well. Time for our guest of honor to arrive." And Phoenix sauntered off into their courtroom, leaving Miles to collect his shattered perceptions.

"What?" Miles called moments later, long after his voice could reach Phoenix's ears. Returning to reality, Miles hurried into the courtroom before he was penalized for being late.

Notes:

If it wasn't clear, Miles half expected Phoenix's flirts to be more games. He wasn't connecting the dots at all lol.


	24. Declaration

Friday August 12th 2016– 2:00 PM

That declaration of love . . . what was it? Real? It sounded real . . .

Miles entered the courtroom and took his place next to Phoenix. That man had not changed up his demeanor at all since that declaration. Miles, however, was flustered beyond recognition. Phoenix smiled at him and said, "Perhaps I should have waited to say something until _after _this trial?"

Miles wanted to say something in return; witty or snarky, but his voice was gone. Phoenix slid him a glass of water and said, "Drink up. Need you to focus, okay?"

"I know!" Miles found his voice, cracked as it was. He did drink the water, though, and eyed the prosecution and the person who took the stand. A one and the same Redd White that Phoenix had been tracking for a great length of time. White glowered back at only Phoenix, who held a cocky grin back at him.

"I always get the last laugh." Phoenix whispered to Miles.

"I bet you do . . ." Miles acknowledged. He wondered if Phoenix outmatched him now, fearing that no matter how much he studied and learned, Miles would still always trail behind Phoenix. It was not a feeling he was used to, as Miles always outshone Phoenix in the academic world when they were younger.

Phoenix had grown, though. Shaped by experience, loss, grief, and hard work. But, somehow, it was not jealousy or a blow to his pride that Miles felt just then. It was relief. He needed Phoenix's cleverness to outwit White and Purohit. They were now and had forever been a team.

Miles felt a rush just then. Something in his chest. It was welcomed but unknown to Miles and he would have to examine it closer later. He placed it all aside and focused on their new task of convicting White before the day ran short.

The Judge hushed them all with his gavel and said, "Mr. Redd White. A witness placed you at the scene of a murder. I hope you understand just how serious that is."

White held an upstanding image and shimmered back, "Salutations, Mr. Judge! I do not know of any witnesses that could have possibly observationed me at a place in which I have never been to, but I will humor this courtroom with a testimony most glorious! Will you hear my declaration?"

"Uh, yes. Well, Mr. Purohit? Are you ready to begin?" The Judge asked.

". . . Yes." Purohit hesitated.

"Hmm." Phoenix whispered, "Looks like we're undergoing a change of heart."

"Understandably so. I would hate to be the one who worked White." Miles said.

"Hmm." Phoenix frowned.

"What?"

"It's . . . uh, nothing."

"Is the Defense ready?" His Honor prompted.

"We are, Your Honor." Miles said, soon forgetting about Phoenix's odd display just then.

"Very well, let us begin." The Judge said.

Purohit started off as normal, requesting for a name and occupation. White glimmered and sparkled, catching the light of the courtroom just right to flaunt. "You wish to know the title of my personage?"

Purohit sighed. Long. And loud. He then said. "Yes."

"Oh dear! I thought for a moment that my locutions confused you! I am Redd White, but my friends call me Blanco Nino. The CEO – el presidente – of Bluecorp."

". . . Is that good enough for the court record?" Purohit's eye twitched. Both Miles and Phoenix could see it from across the room.

"Someone's a bit done with Blanco Nino's crap, huh?" Phoenix sniggered.

The Judge blinked in perplexion, "Uh . . . Yes?" The Judge took a step further and eyed the transcriptionist, who nodded.

"I have it, uh, with a denoted disclaimer at the bottom." She said and that seemed to be good enough for the Judge.

"Thank you, Your Honor. Mr. White, please tell us about your alibi in the time frame which the murder occurred." Purohit said. Phoenix raised an eyebrow. Miles folded his arms. They were going to fabricate an alibi . . . this already was off to an annoying start.

"I could not leave the premises of my fine beautiful building. The fire alarm was pulled by some nefarious creature and I had to stay at the building to do a head count and file reports. I was at Blucorp until 8 PM as you might imagine."

"Here is the police report to prove it." Purohit said, giving the Judge and official police statement that corresponded with White's word.

"Well, that does seem more decisive than the eyewitness's statement." The Judge agreed.

"As I said before, the old man was confused." Purohit suggested.

"Hah. Goddammit. Must be nice to have the entire police department under your thumb." Phoenix said.

"That report cannot be true."

"It's got the official police stamp on it and everything. As far as it goes for us right now, it is very true. This is why it is such a pain to get anything remotely accomplished."

"Well, what do we do now?" Miles asked, unsure how they could argue with forgery that was utterly convincing. They would have to disprove it, but how?

"That document has signatures, probably belonging to his pawns. If it is known that they submitted a false claim, it will be their hides on the line." Phoenix thought about it for a moment.

Miles said, "He left the fire alarm details decidedly ambiguous."

"Yeah. I noticed . . ." Phoenix said.

The Judge hammered again, "I understand that the defense participants are both new to this, but are we ready to conduct the cross-examination?"

White shouted, "My dear Judge! Do you not think it will be a fantastic waste of productivity? There is no arguing the fine police report."

"We will not forfeit the right to cross-examine," Miles stated.

"Tch." White shrugged.

_Police Report_

_Date : Wednesday, August 10__th_

_Time : 5:32 PM_

_Description of Events: An employee pulled the fire alarm. All employees on staff were vacated to the parking lot and an investigation took place. No fires or other emergencies were discovered, so it was pulled in error._

_The police and fire department excused all of the employees after taking witness reports. Key officers and the CEO remained onsite until 8:00 PM._

_End Time : 8:00 PM_

Miles had a thought about those fire alarm details – a way to worm in his attack on Phoenix. From there, they could carefully dismantle White's lie and the false report. The reason he hesitated was because Phoenix hesitated.

"Is it another trap?" Miles asked.

". . . If it is, it is our only option." Phoenix said. A wishy-washy answer for someone usually so bold.

"We will deal with that as it comes, then." Miles agreed. He then asked White, "From what it sounds like, you do not know who pulled the fire alarm. Is that true?"

Direct. If White answered negatively, then it would be a point against him.

Purohit asked, "Why is that relevant?"

Miles replied, "We should be thorough. That report is vaguely written."

"It states what is relevant to the trial at hand: Mr. White did not leave the premises until after the tragic murder occurred. That is all that matters."

"Do you recall why we had White summoned in the first place?" Miles argued.

"Hmm." Purohit answered nonverbally, trying to get away with not recognizing _that _piece of evidence.

"For the court record, I want you to say it with certainty: Do you recall how the events at Bluecorp tie into the events at those apartments?"

". . . I do."

Miles smiled, "A reminder for the room: an assault and a murder. The timestamp shows that the assault occurred at 5:28 PM on Wednesday August 10th. That assault happened a few minutes before the alarm was pulled.

"Recall all of the facts so far. A statue that states the time, the time and date of both events, and the people involved share commonality. If there truly is nothing odd about these events, then White should have no fear in testifying about them?" Miles argued.

"It is hard to deny what is written clearly in front of us." The Judge said. "But . . . I would like to hear this. If the pieces do not fit, then we will release Mr. White from the stand."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Miles wrote to Phoenix, 'I want to show them the full clip now.'

Phoenix smiled. "First, before we state our claim, Mr. White – there was a question for you that was not clearly answered. Do you know who pulled the fire alarm?"

Purohit remained silent. White hesitated, thinking on which is better. 'Yes' he did, the truth? Or 'No' he didn't, and deny?

"Er. No. I cannot say it was ever revealed . . ."

"Okay. Please have that amended to the testimony." Phoenix requested. White knew, though. Phoenix said to Miles, "You know, I recognize some of those names on that report. Not like personally, but I've seen their names in documents at Bluecorp."

"If there is a way to prove that connection, it would certainly solve a few headaches." Miles said.

"You are right. I am not sure that I do beyond my word, though. Alright, the full clip is ready for you."

Miles was ready to start linking events together in chronological order, similar to the mock trial_. _"This is the clip from which the photograph of the assault was pulled. I will show the full clip now."

. . .

. . .

. . .

The video played to completion. White blocked Phoenix in, struck at him, missed his mark, and then Phoenix retreated. It was all there.

"Mr. White." Miles said after the footage ended and the room went quiet, "I believe you said that 'it was never revealed' who pulled the alarm. But you pursued Mr. Wright from the office and should have seen him. Why did you not testify to this knowledge?"

A loaded question. Because he could not without outing himself.

White looked concerned for a moment, then said, "Well . . . I never . . . left the office after the fact."

The Judge finally came back down from his shock and said, "That was attempted murder!"

Purohit shrugged, "So it is. But Wright managed to escape. Another investigation will be conducted to resolve this matter. However; Mr. White never left Bluecorp and could not have killed Miss Fiona Frost."

Phoenix asked, "Did you hear that clock? Polly the Parrot and Mr. Yanni Yogi both agreed to hearing that same clock. Once it hits something on impact, it will read the current time. How did the clock move from one crime to the other?"

Purohit shrugged, "Someone else must have had a similar model."

"There are only two in existence." Miles reminded.

Purohit replied, "That you claim. There is no proof to the contrary."

Phoenix challenged, "Well, if you do not like that as an explanation, maybe your men can confiscate the clock and have it scanned for blood residue? After all, if it was never outside of the office, then it should not have blood stains."

"It would have blood stains from your injury." Purohit claimed.

"It bled internally, but the skin never cracked. You can read up on it in my medical report." Phoenix grinned. He was waiting for that one. Purohit seemed to visibly react to that refutation, and he pulled out a report from the Hotti Clinic.

". . . That is . . . correct . . ." Purohit set the report down and sighed. ". . . Your Honor, I request that the bailiff . . . do as the defense appeals and contact the detectives. Have that statue found and taken to forensics. Mr. White, where is the statue now?"

". . .Hmph." White shook his head.

"If you would please cooperate, Mr. White." Purohit requested.

"You are all forgetting one spectatulactic thing! I never left Bluecorp so that statue will not have bloodstains! I attacked Mr. Wro-Wright here because he was a trespasser and a liar. Isn't that right, Mr. 'Verrier'?"

"Oh, we already established my alias. Do not worry yourself over my identity, Mr. White." Phoenix said in return.

Purohit explained, "Mr. White. Phoenix Wright went through the proper channels to carry out an investigation on Bluecorp. You assaulted an international agent."

"Wh-What?" White laughed nervously. "Ah, hahaha! Yes, I was merely testing his reflexes! I knew that he was an agent, of course!"

"Do you want to add that to your testimony?" Phoenix scoffed.

"Er." White started to sweat a little bit, but recaptured his charisma from earlier, "You still have nothing on me. I was never at those apartments. If you want to speak on that playful altercation, then we should do this another time?" White said.

Phoenix shook his head, "That altercation was far from playful. It broke most of my bones and will take 18 months to fully heal. It's a good thing that it will recover at all."

18 months . . . that was the first time Miles heard the recovery time estimation. Phoenix Wright would have to figure out how to live without one of his hands. Phoenix already showed great displeasure to this handicap.

Phoenix continued, "If it caused that much damage to my hand and wrist, could you imagine what it would have done to my head? Besides, there is a reason why you assaulted me, remember? You had a copy of my prosecution registration form and accurately assessed that I would be launching a separate investigation into you."

"That's absurded nonsense!" White claimed.

Miles stopped the footage at Phoenix's prosecution papers and said, "It is not nonsense, it is the truth. You taunted Wright with this information beforehand. Would the court care to hear what Mr. White said to Mr. Wright at this time?" These rhyming names were starting to wear Miles down, but he did not show it. He also did not wait for a response and played back Mr. White's goading.

"Er. That is . . ." White folded his arms, "Prosecutioner! A little help?"

". . . You are beyond help. As far as the assault goes, anyway. Mr. White, I think it is time you explain what you did with that statue now."

"Aren't you supposed to be representing me?" White asked.

". . . Your innocence rides on that statue coming back clean. For murder, anyway." Purohit said flatly.

"What do you mean?" White demanded.

"It is not that hard. You are videotaped striking at someone. The events at Bluecorp are indisputable. That is on you and you alone."

White exclaimed, "Ah! I know! since that footage of me is taken illegally, it can't be used to convict me of any crime. Isn't that right?"

Purohit sighed. "No. Now tell us about the statue already."

"But it is! I know it is!"

"Wright's investigation was _stationed_. He _is _Law Enforcement _and _you attacked him while he was on duty. It is not the same thing." Purohit explained.

"Looks like Purohit really is done with White." Phoenix said.

Miles nodded,". . . Indeed. White does not want to divulge that statue's current whereabouts. You do not assume he was so foolish as to leave it right in his car?"

Phoenix shrugged, "Maybe."

The Judge said, "Well, Mr. White? Will you tell us about that statue? What did you do with it after striking Mr. Wright?"

". . .I evoke the right to remain silent. I want to talk to my lawyer." White said.

Purohit folded his arms and said, "You may do as you wish, but you are still a suspect until the statue can be disproven. If you stop speaking now, it may be worse for you later on."

"Tch. That ostentatious statue is in the office of that secretariat. Are you happy now?" White asked.

"Very well. Which secretary?" Purohit nodded.

"The lovely Miss Julia."

The Judge deliberated on the issuing. Another break? Suspension until White speaks to an attorney? He finally did voice his thoughts, ". . .That statue needs to be collected and undergo forensic investigation. It seems as though this trial has come to a pause."

No one spoke up. Miles hated to let it end here, but White's stubbornness put a stop to their roll. How much damage could another day cause if this finished for the evening?

"With those factors in mind, I believe we should adjourn for the day and resume tomorrow at 10:00 AM." The Judge decided.

"Not just yet." Purohit said.

"Do you have something to add, Mr. Purohit?" The Judge asked.

"Finding blood residue will not take long if it exists. It is the scavenger hunt that will take the most time." Purohit said.

"What do you mean?" The Judge inquired.

". . .Mr. White was brought in by police force after the defense's insinuations. They scoured the building for the supposed weapon. Here is a picture of her office, the one belonging to the secretary, Julia Whittaker. If you compare the footage of Wright's assault to this picture, the statue would have been placed back on the desk. Clearly, it is not there. If you look at any other photographs, you will notice that it comes up in none of these. That is all."

"Mr. White." The Judge looked at the man still on the witness stand.

"Why is Purohit suddenly condemning White's case?" Miles asked.

Phoenix understood it somehow, though, "Once the assault was revealed, Purohit must have realized a full acquittal is impossible and that White would no longer cooperate with his main project. White is now baggage to Purohit."

"Is that the sole reason?" Miles really, really did not approve of Purohit or his tactics.

"Well, as you said before, White getting out of actual investigators' ways gives us more room to maneuver. Purohit might be planning a different alliance now."

Miles glared at Purohit and said, "As if anyone would ally with someone so willing to betray his own side. He even tried to deceive us with a 'friendly gift'."

"I know." Phoenix closed his eyes.

Purohit tapped his fingernails on the desk and said, "Mr. White has lied about the statue and the detectives are still searching for it. The fact of the matter is, we already know that the statue was used as a weapon once. It is probable that it was also used twice."

"Well, someone else must have taken it during the fire alarm commotion. I still never left Bluecorp that night until after 8 PM." White countered.

"Ah." Miles had an idea. White might have just carelessly given them an opening, "Are you claiming that you never wielded that statue again after 5:30 PM on August 10th? You have not seen the statue since then?"

"That's right!" White stepped right into it, "Even low-level members of society like you piranhas can understand something that simply! It was never in my possetations after that evening!"

"That is a lie." Miles declared.

"What?" White said.

"My poor car had its windows smashed in the day after the murder."

"So? Who gives a shit about some nobody's car?" White fumed.

". . . I think this should clear it up?" Miles asked rhetorically, while he presented all that he needed to about the attack on his car at 'Verrier's' house. It was very clear what crashed into the window – a statue that resembled the thinker and the attacker was unmistakably White.

"Another crime with that statue . . . go figure." Purohit said unimpressed.

White stammered, "But – but . . .! Okay, so? Perhaps I held onto the statue so no one could find my other situation out! So what I smashed some idiot's sportscar in? I still did not murder anyone, and you cannot prove otherwise!"

Miles grumbled, "You want to say that all again?"

Phoenix deflected and said, "Before you try anything else, that footage was taken on personal property, to which you were trespassing. It is also perfectly legal and relevant. Do you know what else is special about that property?"

White grumbled. Purohit remained silent. Actually, the damn man was thoroughly checked out again. Phoenix finished his thought, "It is my property. After he attacked me with the statue, he thought to finish the job."

"I want to speak with my lawyer now." White clamored.

"You may." Purohit said., his eyes springing back to life.

"That is my decision to make?" The Judge blinked.

"White is no longer needed and is clearly about to evoke his right to remain silent. White need not be here to figure out where this path shall lead us."

"Are you not the prosecutor?" The Judge asked.

"Hmm? I am unable to formulate a rebuttal and have no desire to prolong this trite affair. Either White speaks and spews more lies, or he leaves, and we come to the conclusion it is meant to take. The statue either does or does not have blood residue on it. However, White clearly has been up to more than shady affairs and will be tried separately on them. That is all."

The Judge engaged White, "Well, Mr. White? Are you evoking that right?"

White was careful with his words now, "What can I testify on? I do not know what happened at those apartments and I will no longer speak on anything but."

Purohit reminded White, "Yes, the murder happened at 6:20 PM. Only Miss Ruby Frost was present during the crime. According to the police report for your fire alarm escapade, you were present during its aftermath. It is a solid alibi. However, the weapon you used in other attacks made a cameo in the murder of Miss Fiona Frost. Until that is explained, you are still a suspect. Do you understand your position at present?"

"So why are we questioning me and not her?" White pointed at Ruby.

Purohit answered, ". . . She lacked decisive evidence against her. We are forced to explore other alternatives."

White groveled, "But I cannot fit into this equation! So surely you must see how much of a time waster this is?"

Purohit coughed, "Well, do not waste any more and just answer honestly what you do with the statue."

"I – After I used the statue to smash the windshield, I returned it to Julia's desk. If it is gone, then it is likely that she is back in possetations of it? All I am saying is that I did not have it after that night . . ."

Purohit kneaded his forehead, really reeling in how much he wanted to lay into White for being an idiot. Miles caught on to it and could only guess Phoenix did as well. Purohit said, "I am just confirming your story. It was after the incident with the window smashing that you returned the statue to the desk?"

"Yes." White said confidently. "After."

"Kay." Was all Purohit had to say to that.

Miles did not have to think too hard on this one. White made it positively easy for him to dissect. "You used the statue on 5:30 PM on August 10th and it stayed with you until sometime after you smashed into my car. You carried it with you in your own car for that amount of time, is that correct?"

"Um. Yes." White said.

"So. You had the statue until the morning of August 12th, which is today, by those estimations. You also had the possible murder weapon in your possession in the same interval as the murder took place by your claim."

White practically screamed, "Wait hold on a minute! That's not what I meant! Uh. Of course, after that . . . unpleasantriness with Wright I had to deal with the fire alarm and so it was unattended for several hours. Someone could have taken it and returned it."

Then an idea hit White.

"Someone like the pair of defense lawyers over there? They look like a two-man team and would definitely have the resources to pull off a stunt like that."

Miles slammed his dominate hand into the desk and said, "What? That is impossible. Wright was at the Hotti Clinic that night, treating the wound you gave him."

"And after he left that clinic?" White asked.

". . . After?" The three lawyers said practically in unison with the same brief pause.

"You know, after Wight left the clinic, he could have taken the statue, killed the girl, and returned it to that desk."

Purohit looked at Miles and Phoenix, like 'do I really have to explain it or can one of you?' Eventually, Purohit said, ". . . The clinic released Wright long after the murder occurred. It is strictly impossible."

"Oh! Oh I knew that, I was just testing all of you!" White laughed so hollowly. "And what about yourself, Mr. Magenta?"

"My suit is not that purple," Miles argued.

"Bigger picture here, Miles." Phoenix scolded, which was out of character for him. He was absolutely infuriated, from his expression to his tone to his tense body language. Miles remained calm, though. Not by any actual effort, but because he really did not take White's accusation too seriously. With as much as White put Phoenix through, Miles did not blame his partner for his apprehension.

White made his case, though, "Yes. That evening I broke Magenta's windshield, I went to pay my former employee a visit. They were at that house at that time, together, and plotting. I am absolutely sure of it."

Purohit pursed his lips, like he sucked on a sour lemon, and asked Miles, "What were you doing at Mr. Phoenix Wright's house on that evening, Mr. Edgeworth?"

Miles wasn't sure where Purohit was going with this, but he had no reason to lie. "I was investigation this case."

"You knew that Wright and Verrier were the same person?" Purohit asked.

Phoenix said, "No he did not. It took him several rounds to figure that out, but he did in the end. What is your point?"

Purohit shrugged, "Something like that is difficult to prove either way, so I will move passed it. I hand this off to you, now."

The cross examination began without the Judge's say-so. He was kind of invalidated by the courtroom initiating it on their own. It happened a lot.

Miles asked White, "Do you always greet former employee's by breaking in windshields? What was the motivation behind that?"

White looked over at Purohit for guidance. The prosecutor shrugged at him and said, "I was not in your head when you made such a reckless decision. Either you were bored or you were malicious, but I would guess you did it because you thought the car belonged to Wright."

White frowned, "Oh. Yeah. Actually, that's why I did do that . . ."

Phoenix jumped on White, "Oh? If that's the case, what made you so certain the Edgeworth was over? You came specifically to meet me. And you weren't just over for tea and biscuit, so why don't you just be honest and say why you really did visit me that night."

White owned up to it, but only in terms by what they actually had against him, "To send you a message about crossing me."

Phoenix laughed, "And that's why you proceeded to break and enter the house? Before you lie, I have video evidence of that, too."

"You – your front door was wide open!" White said.

"I had break-ins on multiple nights."

"Really?" Miles asked. Did Phoenix mention it before? This case was starting to give him whiplash.

"Yes. On the night of the murder, after I came back from the clinic. Some other visitors come by my house. It was not White, but other members of Bluecorp. I then left the house as I found it since I would need it for evidence later. Mr. Edgeworth showing up when he did . . . was not in my original plans. I was waiting for you, White."

Now it was Miles' turn to be upset. He whispered harshly, "Phoenix. You didn't set yourself up _as bait_,did you?"

". . . I did. I knew he would stop by again. That's why I didn't reveal myself to you sooner. He was after me and I was hoping to catch him in the act. I didn't want you getting caught in the crossfire."

"You could have been killed!"

"This is why I love you, Miles."

Miles didn't have a response for that beyond getting flustered. Phoenix smiled at him, though.

Then Phoenix looked at White and said, "You were after me. You went to my apartment, then my house after your initial scouts came back empty handed. Fiona being at the apartment was more of an opportunistic attack on your part."

White yelled, "Nonsense! I have no motive against the lovely Frost ladies! Besides, as it is well established by now, _I did not leave Bluecorp until 8:00 PM_, so you are talking in circles."

Miles shook it off and said, "It was Miss Ruby who claimed you had murdered her other sister, Ursula. There is bad blood between you and the sisters."

"Did she? I do not recall." White lied.

Phoenix said, "You made their lives miserable. You were constantly trying to silence them."

White laughed at him, "You have no proof of that."

Phoenix whispered to Miles, "He never contacted them directly. I should have seen through the text conversation sooner. It's the only thing we got, though."

Miles asked, "Do you have all the steps ready to counter it?" Phoenix loaded his emails. Chief Skye sent him back the reports on their Noah Beatty's lost item claim and proof of his attendance to one of Bluecorp's seminars, and so Phoenix nodded.

Miles initiated their rebuttal, "Fiona Frost ran into trouble all that week. Someone set her house on fire, then taunted her about it. That is why she came to this city. There is a text message exchange on her phone, seen here."

Purohit asked, "Did you verify the contact? The number shows without a name."

Miles answered, "We did. It belongs to a man by the name of Noah Beatty."

Purohit smiled softly, "Well, good for you. How does that implicate White?"

Phoenix pulled up the lost item claim, dated a week back, "This is why. This phone was not in Beatty's possession when these messages were sent. If you have someone compare the speech patterns from the unknown sender to White, you will find similarities in their style."

Miles added the second part, "Noah Beatty was registered at one of the Bluecorp's motivational entrepreneurship speeches. The day he claims to have lost his phone overlaps with that seminar."

Purohit nodded. "Bailiff, have the conversation analyzed next to something else of White's. . . . Impressive. But indecisive. I do not suppose you found Mr. Beatty's phone?"

Miles shook his head, "No. We did not. We do know that it was not in Beatty's possession."

The Judge spoke, "New possibility now exists. It looks like there was more to Miss Fiona's case than we first anticipated, the poor girl." The Judge then slammed his gavel, probably for effect at this point, and said, "Let us take a ten-minute break so Mr. Purohit can check in with the detectives. We need to find that statue."

White demanded, "I should be free to go. I have testified and these people have found nothing against me."

The Judge shook his head, "No. You have not been cleared yet. The bailiff will escort you to a waiting room."

"I demand to get a phone call!" White persisted.

"Allowed. Dismissed for recess."

#

Friday August 12th 2016– 3:30 PM

Outside the courtroom, Miles and Phoenix stood together with Ruby.

"That was some stunt you pulled." Miles said with his arms crossed.

"Are you still upset about the whole bait thing?" Phoenix asked.

"Of course I am! How reckless can you possibly be!?"

Phoenix laughed, "Ah, I love being bitched out by the people I care about. It makes me feel loved."

Miles grabbed at his maroon suit sleeve, "You are incorrigible."

"Don't I know it?" Phoenix winked.

"Well, you lovebirds sure are thorough. It's hard to imagine this is what the two of you are really like." Ruby said and the boys hushed. Miles and Phoenix almost forgot she was standing there. "What? Your lover's spat was drawing attention to us."

Miles shook his head, "We are not lovers."

Ruby rolled her eyes. "Denial is a river in Egypt. Anyway, I get the feelin' that you're close to nailing him. It's the first good feelin' I've had in a while."

Phoenix nodded, "Glad to hear it."

Miles looked around for his father. How could he not be back yet? Nothing happened to him while he was out, right? Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was clasp, gone just as quickly, and a familiar voice said, "I had to eat out in the lobby, but I could hear the entire thing. You and Phoenix had a handle the entire time."

"Thank you, Father." Miles slacked his tense shoulders.

Gregory nodded then said, "Though I do agree with my son, Phoenix. You are a bit careless. I am definitely making you both watch safety videos."

Miles protested, "Why am I lumped in with him?"

"Don't think I don't remember the stunts you pulled recently, Miles. I feel like we could all benefit from safety training. Not tonight, but by the time we are out in the field again." Gregory said, then pulled out the tap from his pocket, "I listened to this on the way back. It does have that final confrontation with her and White. I wanted to make sure you understood that, Ruby. It isn't going to be a pleasant thing for you to listen to."

She folded in on herself. It was the weakest any of them ever saw her. ". . . Do it. Bury that asshole. Show the whole world the rotten fuck that he is."

"Okay." Gregory said with a hint of sorrow. It was times like these where he wished he could let the defendant sit away from the processions. The finale to this case rested in proving where White truly was that night and it would be done through this recording and that statue.

Notes:

I think I finally tied it all up. Some humorous dialogue sort of pulled from the game. Gotta keep some of the source material, you know?

I am so GLAD this arc is just about done. It's exhausting, haha! I'm ready for some WrightWorth / EdgeWright stuff.


	25. White's Last Stand

Chapter 25: White's Last Stand

Notes:

Some darker themes are mentioned middle half and down. I hinted at a few of them already. I should probably add tags, but kind of think of it like any old crime show. Bad things happen and people are depraved.

Side note, I'm finding it harder to edit for some reason in online documents versus word, like I am used to. Sorry if there's weird spacing. Also, I'm using indents in the word, but I don't know if they'll start to pick up. If it's weird, I'll return it to normal.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Purohit seemed as ready for this trial to be over as Miles and Phoenix did. From what Miles knew about the prosecutor, it made sense. Purohit was apparently single-minded and only wanted to secure an in with someone, Redd White, who may have known about a string of trafficking cases, and Phoenix planned to extract whatever knowledge Purohit had on it. Now this one investigation turned into a web of others, with no other notable relation to the other.

Redd White had not returned to the witness stand. After a few exchanges between Gregory, who stood further back to give the boys some space, and Miles and Phoenix, it was made uncertain whether or not White was going to testify any further.

"Even with friends in high places, White can't deny his assaults ." Phoenix assured.

"Will they shorten his sentencing, though? That is what I worry about." Miles said in return.

The Judge took his place and said, "Mr. Purohit. Have the detectives learned anything about that statue?"

"Yes. Your Honor." Purohit said.

"That is fantastic news! Please share the details to the court, if you would please."

"The statue was found in White's car. It was underneath the glove box on the passenger side. It is being examined for traces of blood and fingerprints as we discuss this." Purohit said.

"Well. Good news for us, huh?" Phoenix said.

"We will see." Miles was not about to put his trust in Purohit. If the man schemed something else, they would need to be alert to respond to it.

"The murder weapon was with Mr. Redd White, then?" The Judge asked.

"If the statue comes back without blood, it would cast doubt on the defense's claims. Until forensics comes back with a positive, it cannot be stated for certain." Purohit argued.

"Then you do agree it would be suspect for the weapon to come back with traces of blood?" Miles asked.

"I do have an issue with some parts of your claim. It is well established that White did not leave Bluecorp until after 8:00 PM. The murder weapon and the car were seen on the apartment grounds during the murder, as well as a man who matches White's description. However, it is clear that one party is lying about events. Either the police report is, or the witness is. The witness, Yanni Yogi, has memory issues. He could have recalled the statue and the car, but not the person, correctly."

"You are trying to blame someone else, then?" Miles asked.

"The police report is being investigated as well. There are no other leads on who might possibly have taken the statue and the car to the apartments."

"Then you admit it is an empty claim?" Miles was not relenting.

"It is an alternative explanation if Mr. White truly did not leave Bluecorp that evening. The Bluecorp employees can be just as colorful as their president. Several of the members have dyed their hair and wear clothes in similar match. If that were to be the case, we would have to think in terms of 'anyone in that building could be the culprit'."

Miles argued that claim, not wanting to go through another rabbit hole of distractions, "Who else would have the motivation to seek out either the Frosts or Wright? You have to remember, these incidents were strung together because of Wright."

"Wright. The one who admitted his house being broken into by other Bluecorp employees? That Wright? He is the one who made that reality it very possible."

"Shit." Phoenix cursed under his breath. Louder, he said, "No. It's okay. We still have that recording. Your father verified its contents. White isn't going anywhere but prison."

Purohit spoke before Miles could say anyting , "Mr. Wright. You made that claim of your house being broken into. Let us see feedback. I know you have it, so don't lie."

Phoenix sighed and then explained. "I do have it. White didn't stop by my house until the night you were there, Miles. it will show three other people. Two men and a woman. He found a way to prolong this trial."

"It would have been nice to know this ahead of time, Phoenix. Well. There is no reason for us to object, is there? It is relevant and it is something you claimed."

"I let White get under my skin. This is my fault." Phoenix dug out the recording and said, "Your Honor, this is the recording."

When Phoenix worked the recording to the courtroom television, it showed a black car pull up, and three people step out. Two men, one fairly normal and the other closer to White's fashion senses, and a pink woman that Miles recognized somewhere, stepped out. During the time-lapse , the pink man tripped most of the Halloween traps and eventually illegally cracked open the front door. While he did appear similarly to White, it was clearly not him.

It was the most annoying coincidence that could have presented itself.

The three of them searched around but left without taking or damaging anything else. They were looking for Phoenix, who wasn't home. Purohit seemed pleased with this evidence and said, "Three potential murders. One matching the description provided by witness, Mr. Yanni Yogi. That is all, Your Honor."

This was an example of how one piece of evidence could turn an entire upswing into a crashing curveball. Miles, Phoenix, Gregory, and Ruby all knew that this White lookalike had nothing to do with the murder, but it made the Judge pause and reconsider. "Yes. I see. Who is this colorful man?"

"I am not sure." Phoenix said, he really didn't take the time to learn everyone's names and didn't think this could come back to haunt him. He was going to take his time with the Bluecorp underlings, since 'bigger picture' applied here.

The Judge said, "Well. If the statue comes back with blood, then one of these people could have used it. Is that what you are saying, Mr. Purohit?"

"Indeed, it is, Your Honor."

Miles had a habit of writing shorthand notes about details of the case. Phoenix took that notebook and flipped back to Yanni's testimony of events. As he thought, Phoenix discovered something that did not align with that earlier testimony. He just had to wait for the opportunity to say something.

"You always did take the cleanest notes." Phoenix admired the penmanship and the ability to be so thorough in an environment rapidly changing to new evidence. Miles didn't know if that was a genuine compliment or a flirt, but it didn't take him too long to see what Phoenix's counter would be.

"Your Honor, I am saying that, in compliance to the police report and to Mr. Yogi's earlier testimony, it is very possible that the blame falls squarely to one or more of these Bluecorp members." Purohit said in a bored tone.

Phoenix smiled. "Mr. Purohit, what do you consider the new timeline to be?"

"Well, judging by the later timestamp on this video . . . they murdered Miss Frost first, then drove you your house. You were not home at either location, due to your injuries, which forced them to regroup."

Phoenix looked at the timestamp. It was 6:58 PM when the recording first caught their black car pull up. That would be a short turnaround for anyone, but that was not the point he wanted to argue. Nor did he bring up White's clear visit the next day again, just yet. Phoenix said, "This video is not compliant with earlier testimony, Mr. Purohit."

"Hmm? What makes you say that, Mr. Wright?" Purohit studied the footage once more. If he saw it, he said nothing.

"The color of the car. Mr. Yogi said that the car was purple and that it matched White's suit. The car these three drove around in that evening was black. Also, none of them have the statue in thier possession , either."

Purohit folded his arms and said nothing.

" But, White did come to my house the next day. in a purple car, in a purple suit, and with the statue in hand. The only one who clearly still meets all three of these conditions is Redd White." Phoenix explained.

The Judge asked, "Mr. Purohit? Do you have anything to counter the defense's point?"

Purohit shook his head. "Then we are waiting on those final pieces to come through. Your theory is only as credible as the blood existent on that statue."

"I suppose we are, then." Phoenix said. He looked over at Miles and Gregory and wondered about their 'final' piece of evidence. They did not have to wait very long because Detective Gumshoe approached Purohit from their side with a few reports. After a quiet exchange between the two, the detective left and Purohit began to read off the analysis.

"The statue came back with blood residue. The defense is correct about the statue being a weapon. Since it has not come up with another case, we can assume it was used for this one. As far as the police report . . . hm. There is a conflict of interest that is being reviewed."

"They are in White's pocket. I thought I recognized those names." Phoenix said.

"Yes, it appears so." Miles nodded.

The Judge asked, "What's the conflict of interest?"

"On doing a sweep, it seems as though those officers' names and Bluecorp come up together a lot. We are not able to confirm suspicions at this time." Purohit handed the paperwork to the bailiff to give to the Judge.

"Then . . . with this report being questionable . . ." The Judge frowned, "We cannot take it at face value. We are able to assume White traveled elsewhere, without an airtight alibi."

"It is possible. White must be done speaking with his lawyer. Should we summon him to return?" Purohit suggested.

"Do you want more time to talk with him?" The Judge asked.

"That will not be necessary. His lawyer has undoubtedly prepared him." Purohit dismissed.

The Judge had a very puzzled look on his face, but he sent for White to return to court once more. Miles was not convinced the other side was out of ways to push this battle in a different misdirection; he would wait until White was present to hear his own words used against him, so there was no final argument on the prosecution's side. Phoenix might have thought to do the same thing – he glanced worryingly over to Ruby. As much as those two bickered, Phoenix did care about her.

When White came back, he looked neither confident nor scared. He was uncharacteristically quiet and waited for his next prompt.

The Judge asked, "Mr. White. Where were you between 6:00 and 7:00 PM on the evening of the murder?"

"Ah, my wonderful Judge . . . I was at Bluecorp." White answered.

Miles said, "Then I am sure your company would have a log or a video showing you never left?"

"No need. I have the word of our wonderful police force. They are good people." White said with a forced smile.

Miles shook his head, "Wonderful people that may have underhanded ties with you. Mr. Purohit, we shared a video with you, just moments ago. Do you have one of Bluecorp? Does evidence exist to back up that report and White's claim?"

Purohit said, "I had the detective pull those files from Bluecorp security. I reviewed the floors and White is not seen inside the building after 5:45 PM. However, the alarm that Wright pulled cleared the building out until responders could consider it safe."

"Should White have been back in the building after the threat deemed a false alarm?" Miles pointed out. "Also, when he left the building, did he take the 'Thinker' with him?"

Purohit handed the bailiff and flash drive and said, "This contains the information Mr. Edgeworth wants."

The first part of the video was damaged. Flashes of white blurred it out, but when it focused, Redd White was standing in his hallway like a rabid animal with the 'Thinker' in his dominant right hand. He went back into his office for a moment, then left with a shopping bag, and the 'Thinker' missing from view.

"The security was damaged for around thirty seconds, before White came into view." Purohit said. "The 'Thinker' is not seen again, nor is White."

Miles said, "It is in that bag." Then he squinted at the thought of a damaged few seconds and pieced together that was the time Phoenix would have been in plain view. No wonder the officers could not tell it was Phoenix who pulled the alarm, the security cameras had a temporary white flash. That odd pattern of damages to film around Phoenix continued, and Miles did not know what to make of it.

"It could be in that bag." Purohit frowned.

"Do you have visual on the parking lot?" Miles asked, changing the focus. The statue made it to the apartments, now he had to prove that White did, as well.

Purohit nodded and walked the bailiff into bringing it up. To no one's actual surprise, White was seen entering and leaving his car. But, not before another few seconds of visual damaged white flashes. Miles glanced over at Phoenix, who seemed relatively unphased by the phenomenon. Miles wanted to ask him about it right then and there but would not risk their defense to be blown by Phoenix messing with the security equipment.

What would be the point? Phoenix admitted to doing espionage work. He used the fire alarm as a way to safely escape, too, so it was not like he would be faulted for that. Unless Phoenix did not purposefully tamper with the equipment, similar to how Miles' camera took damaged photos as well.

Miles dismissed that thought. That was not an explanation, that was phantasmagoria, and Miles would not entertain that silly notion.

The Judge ignored the damage and asked, "Where did you go, Mr. White? Did you ever speak with the responders on the fire alarm?"

The timestamp certainly proved otherwise. White left before the police or the fire trucks showed up. People waited in the lot at their designated areas, but the only one who broke protocol, was the president himself.

"Mr. Purohit. Mr. White. I am waiting for an explanation to this." The Judge was unhappy with what he viewed. It did not take the defense to explain what was clear as day to convince the Judge something was wrong with these events.

" So, I left?" White yelled suddenly, "That does not mean I went to those apartments. It is such a ridiculous notion that I, an established businessman , would dirty my hands on someone like that. I did not even know the Frosts – even if I had something against Wright."

Purohit shook his head, " Unfortunately , for you, speech analysis shows that ominous text exchange between Miss Fiona Frost and an unknown person links directly to your own patterns of text and speech."

"Wh-what?"

"The other file the detective gave me confirms this. Despite the cellphone belonging to another, the way you type matches the text exchange more so than it does Mr. Beatty. There is a clear motive on your end to kill Miss Frost and frame her sister for it."

The Judge blinked, "Why are you proving this, Mr. Purohit?"

"It was talked about before, and I was tasked to investigate it. Or should I have hidden it? Regardless, those results came back with a positive. You have motive, Mr. White. Now, do you have a way to prove you were anywhere else but those apartments at 6:20 PM?"

White did not. That police report was his cover. Purohit was ready to call it a wash and throw in the towel. What could he care about a murderer who was caught?

"Hah! So, this is what my lawyer told me to tell you. There is no final piece of evidence that locks me in place at those apartments! You cannot claim it was me! And my joke of a trial will prove this, and you will all be sued for wasting my time." White touted like he knew what he was talking about.

Gregory whispered something to Ruby and then walked up to Miles and Phoenix. "This is set to start right when White breaks down that door. It is not pretty, but Ruby knows to expect it. This is . . . well, it is time to use it."

Phoenix frowned. Despite having the vital piece that proves White wrong, he found disdain in using it. He had an arsenal of ways to sink White and Bluecorp and their associates, but a murder invalidated it all. A murder that he was about to play in front of the victim's sister, who had already lost so much. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And it made Phoenix sick that they would use it, because Ruby would hate him otherwise.

Phoenix was the one who presented it. It seemed like the natural conclusion to this hailstorm. "Your Honor. There is a way to place White directly at the scene of the crime. This wiretap was one that the Frost's used for security purposes. This recording was taken at the time of her death."

The Judge nodded, ". . . Okay. For those squeamish, you are free to leave now."

Phoenix looked back at Ruby and said, "Is it okay for the defendant to wait in the lobby?"

There were hushed whispers in the crowd and the Judge looked at her and at the tape in rapid motion. "Hmm. If the defendant would not like to hear this, she may be escorted away."

"No. Your Honor. I am staying' put." Ruby said.

Phoenix sighed, "Of course you are. Please reconsider, Ruby."

"No. Play the damn thing already."

"Ugh. As you wish."

Phoenix played the tape, and everything went quiet beside the rustling on the recording. There was a loud noise and a second sound like wood cracking apart. A woman screamed once and then a few more movements shuffled nearby.

"White!? Why are you doing this? Please, just leave me alone!" She pleaded.

"No one else here?" White said, sounding disappointed. "Shame. I can't have you as a witness against me. It's been a joy, Fiona."

"Stop! Please! I won't –" There was an audible scuffle, her last horrifying scream, and then a large cracking sound. After one last thud, White laughed a little bit.

"I will be taking these. Thank you for your time, Fiona." White taunted.

Phoenix stopped the recording there. He glared directly at White, who was now sweating. The Judge had a similar loathing look of disdain. The Judge asked, "Mr. Purohit. Do you have any objections to this recording?"

"None. Your Honor." He tapped the desk.

"Mr. White? Anything you want to add?" The Judge said.

"I - I will be speaking with my lawyer again." He stammered.

"Hmph. I imagine you will be, Mr. White." The Judge said with the upmost disregard and disgust.

For any side, that recording would be the holy grail of evidence. Even without visuals, both victim and perpetrator identified each other, and they could hear the struggle in real-time . Phoenix just knew, though, that Fiona's screams would plague Ruby's mind. He wanted to spare her that last nightmare.

#

#

#

The last few minutes of the trial, from the Judge addressing Ruby to declaring her innocent, was a blur for all parties. White was taken into custody and questioning. Phoenix would probably assist in the final prosecution of that entire noise, but for now, he stood with Ruby. During the tape, she squeezed into her arms so much that they bled.

"Why did you stay?" Phoenix asked.

"Because. I needed to. I wanted to see that bastard's face when he was caught."

Phoenix rubbed his forehead, "And was it worth it?"

" Pft . Hell, if I know. That kind of man doesn't feel remorse unless it comes back to damn ' im . Thanks for fightin ' 'til the end." She said.

"What will you do now?" Phoenix asked.

"I'm not sure. I don't think I'll be staying in this area. Too many painful memories. I have family up north. The cold's never been my favorite, but I think I might shack with them for a while."

Phoenix nodded. "I hope you'll keep in touch."

"With you? Hell no. You're freaking police. I ain't touchin ' that with a ten-foot poll. Hm. Jokes aside, I do appreciate what you did. Is it bad that I never want to see your face again, though?"

Phoenix shrugged, "I get that a lot."

"I'll keep in touch, Blue. I'll be moving out soon. But I gotta deal with those release papers and probably shower. Maybe see you in the mornin'?" She asked.

"Sounds good to me." Phoenix agreed, and the officers escorted her to do more paperwork .

Ruby nodded to Miles and Gregory before she left the area. Miles said, "She is stubborn, isn't she?"

"Yeah. I get it, I guess. I'm not sure I would've chosen any differently. So, what's on the agenda for tonight?" Phoenix asked.

"Normally, we go out and celebrate a won case." Gregory said.

"Ah. Yes. Well," Phoenix crossed his arms, "I'm not feeling like that, tonight. This is not how I wanted things to go. It could have ended without another death."

"That is on White, not you." Miles said.

"Yeah. Probably. Anyway, I think I'll take a rain check. There's a lot left to do and I'm feeling ready to deal with it. You guys should go on and celebrate." Phoenix suggested.

Miles narrowed his eyes. "You should rest. We won an important battle, tonight. Your ten others can wait for one evening, right?"

"I promised Lang some results. Besides, I want to talk to Purohit. I promised you that I'm not going anywhere. I mean that. You'll be able to find me. Oh, right. I'll make a copy of White smashing your windshield. Wouldn't want that to get swept under the rug after all this is said and done."

"Phoenix." Miles shook his head. He was not done with him just yet. "I want you to acknowledge that these events were not your fault."

"Hah. Of course. Whatever you say. I'll call you tomorrow," Phoenix ran off without another word.

"You could go after him, but I'm not sure it will do any good." Gregory said.

" So, I am seeing." For some reason, Miles had a perfect read on Phoenix's emotions. He felt _guilty _of all things and needed to keep moving to not break under those thoughts. "I am going to follow him, anyway."

Gregory smiled and pat Miles on the back. "Good. I will go talk with Ruby. Those two think they are indestructible and mentally unbreakable, but they are both feeling just about the same thing right now."

When Miles caught back up to Phoenix, he and Purohit were already discussing the trafficking case.

"White knew people who bought them. I could not get names, though." Purohit said.

"And you think they were in those warehouses?" Phoenix asked. Miles walked up to them and Purohit nodded at him.

"You did well today, Mr. Edgeworth."

"Why did you go to such lengths to defend White? Even after knowing what he did?" Miles asked.

"I worked myself to prove myself to him. The only thing I protected him from were minor infringes. I was very close to a breakthrough, when this unsavory incident occurred. I had the weaker hand, and so you won. Congratulations."

"You were quick to turn on White." Miles accused.

"My job is to prosecute who they tell me to. I do not want to waste time questioning the ethics behind it. White had evidence to prove him both an assaulter and a murderer. There is no way to spin that in a positive light. It would have been a waste of time, something that I detest. Such as this conversation with you is now."

Miles couldn't fathom how he managed to like Purohit even less, but here he was. "How did you know what the murder weapon was? You recognized it's time announcement. You were aware from the beginning that White had the murder weapon."

"That loud man with Julia gifted it to her. He demonstrated how it worked while I was in a meeting in the legal department. It was happenchance. I then saw it in White's car . . . so yes, I knew where the statue was when you claimed what it actually is. And what it sounded like."

"And you did not say anything, because?"

Purohit shrugged, "My knowing where and what it was could not be proven in court, and I had a chance to stay in White's good graces. That soured quickly with those proofs of his Neanderthal acts caught on film."

"Oh, is that all?" Miles' temper reached a new high for that day.

"Are you done? The law is very broken in this land and I am after something much greater. Wright, as for what you were asking about, there was only one piece of evidence I was able to collect. It was in warehouse 13."

"13 was empty when I went to it." Phoenix said.

"Yes. They made a mistake, though. I will let you see it." Purohit opened the folder in his hands and gave it to Phoenix. Miles looked over Phoenix's shoulder in curiosity. Neither prosecutor seemed to care and all he saw was racks with boxes and other storage items.

"This looks clean." Phoenix said.

"Look closer, Wright." Purohit advised. "I will not tell you what it is you are looking for. If you can figure it out, I might give that wolf a call."

On the lower level of the racks was a doll stuffed between the boxes, discarded by accident. "That's a girl's doll." Phoenix said.

Purohit nodded, "Yes. They've transported some of the missing girls this way, by boat. Once Interpol was loud about their stomping around, they trucked the girls out of there within the hour. You saw nothing because there was nothing to see . . . but one poor girl's abandoned doll. Now, if you are done being in my way for one year, I have things to do."

Purohit closed his folder and said, "Keep the photo. I'll call the wolf later. But I don't know much else, my leads are dry. The pompous, conceited ass was my last connection to this case."

"Then rooting through his house and building is a must." Phoenix said.

"I think those are dead leads but feel free. I will chase another way." Purohit walked away without a farewell or a warning, leaving Phoenix to examine that photograph.

"Strange how these events came back here. Then again, this place is becoming a hub for them. I think I know what to look for, though." Phoenix said.

"A 'hub'?"

Phoenix pointed in the direction of Purohit, "He's right. The law in this country is not that great. It's looking to collapse on itself in, say, four or five years if it continues its current trend?"

"What trend would that be?" Miles asked.

"The one where criminals can sweep away what they don't like and accuse an innocent person of their crimes if they're close to being caught. White isn't the only person who's doing that. Worse, the police force is a joke. I didn't know who I could trust in my investigations , so I went solo and confided in a select few. There is a very dark future looming over us, Miles. It's actually already starting to form. Ruby's mistrust in law enforcement wasn't misguided. It was her reality."

' _And yours', _Miles thought.

"Anyway, that's enough doom and gloom talk. I've now done what I needed to do, so Lang doesn't bite my head off later. Did you need something?"

Miles deliberated a moment, then asked, "We don't have to celebrate, since I know you are not up to it. How about we do something quiet instead?"

"Fall asleep in each other's arms?" Phoenix suggested with a flirty wink.

Miles rolled his eyes, but said, "If that keeps you from running off and doing something stupid, then sure."

"Oh? Well, then. You're getting used to this quicker than I'd imagined." Phoenix laughed, then tapped his foot, "Does that mean you want to start dating?"

"No."

"Hmm. Okay. Are you still 'uncomfortable' with this whole thing or can I keep telling you how pretty I think you are?"

"You are insufferable."

"And that wasn't an answer, Miles. So, I will keep flirting until you tell me to stop? I don't hear you protesting anymore."

Miles rolled his eyes.

"That wasn't an answer, either. I guess we can do dinner with the firm. It doesn't have to be an overly joyous occasion, just a calm one. Is that what you're actually suggesting?"

"Yes, Phoenix, a dinner party would be great. Let's go find my Father and see if Ruby is willing to join us." Miles walked on ahead, trying to ignore those obscene things Phoenix liked to say. For what it was worth, Miles let him say it since it seemed to cheer Phoenix up. He would have to 'discuss' those advances at some point, though.

Notes:

Trafficking, murder, and shifting the blame.  
The dark age of the law might be closer than you think.


	26. A Conclusion to the White Case

A Conclusion to the White Case

Notes:

Really, really short!

I am trying to catch up on plot but it's been busy and I've been in a cooldown.

Ruby would be fine. They had dinner and distracted themselves from the horrible turnout that was her life. White would be punished accordingly. They rested after the long battle and Phoenix helped Ruby pack and arrange Fiona's funeral. Once word spread to her northern family, they prepared for her to return with them.

Sometime later, Gregory had Miles and Phoenix set up in a small office with a proportionately comparable television. Gregory had them review the one-and-a-half-hour-long tutorial to a safe investigation. Despite Phoenix not actually belonging to the Edgeworth's Law Firm, he put up no resistance and Miles resigned himself to this fate, knowing that this would be an excruciatingly long period of time.

There was the dull informational phase, where Miles was internally saying, _'Yeah. I know. This isn't exactly new information, nor is it riveting.'_

Phoenix, on the other hand, stared at the screen completely blank faced. Miles began watching his face instead of the screen, waiting for him to even blink. It was when the video transferred over to the fake and horribly staged 'acting' of an investigation, did Phoenix change his facial expressions.

This was what Phoenix was waiting for. This was what he went to school for.

In perfect sync with the female officer, Phoenix said in a faux perky tone that matched hers, "Oh. There is an open door! And a scream! Should I go in, or should I call back up first!?"

Miles had to look away to keep himself from snorting. Out of all the things he could have expected, he should have expected that the most. For some reason, he didn't. Phoenix stayed with her throughout the entire script, then bounced to her 'backup' and so on, and so forth. He matched tone perfectly and excelled at the 'criminal' part.

And that was how Phoenix Wright kept a boring one-hour-and-a-half-long video of stale acting a memorable experience.

Notes:

Probably what's to come: Miles and Phoenix argue about those ghastly Halloween decorations on his front lawn


	27. A Twisting Knife

_A Twisting Knife_

Monday August 22nd 2016 – Afternoon

Gregory entered the room an hour-and-a-half later to quiz his son and . . . other son on what they learned in safety. He found them hiding giggles like they were eleven again – and he didn't have the heart to punish them for it. To see them pick right back up where they left off was warming – Miles needed that energy to relax his uptight views on life. Instead, Gregory decided to address the other elephant in the room; an issue that he merely placed on the backburner for when the White case officially ended for them.

"Phoenix." Gregory said.

"Sir." Phoenix replied back.

"I wanted to ask you, once more, about those letters your father sent to you. Perhaps the last one or two missed your grasp, but surely you knew of the others?" Gregory sat down and faced the two young men. His interrogation was gentler this time, now knowing that Phoenix meant well in his life choices. Gregory trusted Phoenix, mostly, though he needed to know the extent of the damage inflicted by Mr. Wright's actions.

"Do you have a fax that connects internationally?" Phoenix asked.

Gregory blinked a few times. "Yes. The office does. Why?"

Phoenix retrieved his phone and dialed out. He put the phone on speaker and a woman picked up, diving right into a rant, "It's been several _months_! Why haven't you returned any of my calls or emails? How rude of you to ignore me so! I demand an explanation for that!"

"Who is this?" Miles asked.

"Oh? Who are you? You sound handsome."

"Aunt Annie," Phoenix interjected, "I was busy with my job. I'm with the Edgeworths right now."

"Edgeworths? OH! I remember! That Gregory was a real refined vision of a man."

Gregory cleared his throat, "Um. Phoenix. Am I to assume you called your aunt to fax over those letters?"

"Oh, is that him? Goodness, you men sound so husky!" Annie continued to flirt and Phoenix just rolled his eyes. Then Annie asked in confusion, "Letters?"

"Actually, I wanted you to fax over those letters _and _explain why you kept them from me all this time? Withholding mail is a federal crime, y'know?"

"Wait, what's this about – oh. You mean _those _letters." Annie's voice suddenly dropped.

"See? Told you I had no idea about them until you said something." Phoenix winked. "I have no interest in reading any of those things, but Mr. Edgeworth asked about them."

"I burned them." Annie said. "Sorry. They're nothing but ash now."

"Eh. All for the best." Phoenix shrugged.

"This sounds rehearsed," Miles spoke before he could catch himself. The look Phoenix gave him was unlike anything Miles ever witnessed from his friend.

"Does it? Well, regardless, the letters are destroyed, and I am not going out of my way to learn what was written on them." Phoenix explained, suppressing vitriol.

Gregory said, "You burned them? Did you read them at all?"

"Why? What's it to you?" Annie asked, growing more defensive with each invasive question. "My brother was not a good man – and anything he had to say to Phoenix deserved fire. I didn't tell him about the letters because there was no point in putting him through more heartbreak."

"That might be the truth, but I must know: did you read them?" Gregory reiterated, assuming knowledge of the contents held bearing somehow.

"How did you learn of the letters, anyway?" Annie proposed her own.

Gregory answered her, "I looked into Phoenix's circumstances when we learned of his return visit and found that Dennis Wright's appeal is in a few months. I simply wanted to know if he attempted to establish a meetup with Phoenix in that final letter."

Phoenix's face fell even darker. He said, "I have no intention of seeing him. Ever again. I am not contacting him and I'm not accepting his letters."

Gregory nodded, "I am taking steps to ensure of that, Phoenix. You do not need to be so defensive. Neither of you do."

"So. Denny's trying for an appeal, huh?" Annie sounded flat. ". . .What's the fax machine number?" Gregory read it off and Annie confessed, "I did not burn the letters. I did not open or read them, either. I'll send them over. Talk to you later, Phoenix."

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Aunt Annie."

After a few moments of silence, the machine nearby printed off the received letters, and Phoenix stood up. "I'm going to head out. See you later."

"Phoenix." Miles went after him, ignoring the several pages printing off in the distance. The difference between Phoenix and Miles shone clearly in moments like this – Miles would be delighted to receive mail from his father, had they been apart for any duration longer than a week. Phoenix ran away.

Once they were outside, Phoenix stopped in the parking lot and sighed. He waited for whatever enlightening wisdom Miles would dole out this time. Miles said nothing on his reaction, though. He was out of his depth this time, knowing nothing of abusive father figures. Instead, he reminded Phoenix, "You said I will always be able to find you. I am holding you accountable to that."

"I just want some air." Phoenix said. The Edgeworth Law Offices lacked a bright red sportscar that was now being worked on after the insurance had a copy of that evidence. "Besides, there's gonna be moments where I just wanna be alone."

"Do you want to be alone now?" Miles asked.

Phoenix paused, then answered, "Not really. It's different when it's you."

"You do not want to be alone, unless it's me?"

"You know what I mean!" Phoenix hid a laugh in his outburst. Of course Miles knew, he just wanted to cheer Phoenix up and it looked like his tactic was successful. Sooner or later, Miles would have to acknowledge Phoenix's love confession and decide what to do about it. Miles never really fancied himself a romantic, nor did he envision a life that involved marriage, but he found himself going absolutely soft for Phoenix. That didn't mean physical attraction was at play, though; rather that Miles had a persistent emotional connection to Phoenix, despite all his antics, the looming tragedy, and their time spent apart.

"If you need time to yourself, I will respect that. But I do not want you disappearing with no way to trace you, again."

"Do you want a key to my house?" Phoenix asked. "Well, soon to be my house?"

Phoenix's threw Miles' train of thought off course. "I - suppose that would be one way to keep track of you."

"If you want, I can show you how to track my phone's internal GPS. It's not that hard, since new phones come with location and maps pre-installed."

Miles folded his arms, "That is more disconcerting. How about we stick with a spare key in my possession?"

"You wanna move in?"

"I don't think that will be –" Although, Phoenix did have a yard that Missile could run around in.

Phoenix nodded, "Missile can come, too."

"How are you doing that?" Miles grumbled as Phoenix read his mind once more, a repeated occurrence that sat unwell with Miles and his skepticism. Phoenix, unwilling to give up his tricks, merely shrugged and looked aimlessly toward the horizon.

Miles said, "I am not living in a house with those hideous lawn displays. You will have to remove them before I even step foot in that house again."

"Hm. Back to this, then?" Phoenix sighed animatedly, pretending to be perturbed. "Well, you're probably right. It's kind of tacky to have them up year-round."

"Finally. Some sense."

"But - We are coming up to where it is acceptable for them. So, I'll remove them in November for Christmas stuff! How's _The Nightmare Before Christmas _sound to you? I got a Jack Skellington– might need some other characters, though."

Now Phoenix was negotiating. This goes back to his love for arguments, no doubt. "Make the walkway accessible and take down the props when each holiday ends." Miles demanded in a counter condition.

"That's the best part, though!" Phoenix laughed. "Oh, did you want to see yourself react to the traps? It's amazing. You're very photogenic, y'know? You'd make an excellent star."

Miles' eyebrow twitched once outside of his control. Speaking of photogenic . . .

"I am not watching your home horror movie, thank you very much. I do wonder why it is you don't seem to be photogenic at all, though."

"That's kinda mean. You calling me 'ugly'?"

"No. I haven't seen a single piece of footage that wasn't blotted out by a streak or a flare." Miles stated, though he lacked the conviction to truly believe it was anything more than a coincidence.

Phoenix crossed his arms, saying nothing in response to that. They both watched a familiar red car pull in, only to realize it was just Larry and Ray coming back from the park with Missile. Phoenix laughed and said, "I can't believe you rented a twin car to Larry."

Phoenix completely ignored Miles' last observation.

"It is not a 'twin'. Mine is superior." Miles let it go for now.

"Hm. Sure." Phoenix shrugged. Missile trotted ahead like he was the pack leader and sat by Miles' legs for head scratches.

"Sup, dudes." Larry said.

"Uncle Ray has returned!" Ray announced with his arms out for a hug, getting a blank stare from Phoenix and a raised eyebrow from Miles.

"Do what now?" Phoenix finally asked.

"Y'know, Mister Edgeworth suddenly has three kids and I decided, 'hey, I must be the uncle'! So, you may address me as 'Uncle Ray' from now on, it's okay."

"No." Miles refuted instantly. He then remembered Raymond trying something similar when he was younger and was denied then, too.

"I already got a crazy aunt. I don't need a crazy uncle, too." Phoenix pursed his lips.

"I'm heartbroken." Ray pouted.

"You'll live." Miles dismissed.

"I guess Larry truly is the golden child." Ray joked, pat Missile on the head, then went inside. The three childhood friends and their dog continued their discussion outside, feeling a nice breeze rustle by.

"So, what do we wanna to do today?" The golden child asked.

"Miles is trying to get me to remove my Halloween decorations." Phoenix answered, giving Miles a sly side-eye.

"What! Those are cool, though!" Larry backed up Phoenix, "'Sides, Edgey, didja even see yourself, man!? With a few more shots, we could def make a buck off this thing."

"You showed Larry?" Miles' face contorted.

Phoenix's smile turned into an infuriatingly haughty grin, "Yeah. What can I say? You're a natural talent, Miles."

"Aren't you the one with a theatre degree?" Miles challenged.

"I'm not a 'natural' like you, though." Phoenix flirted.

Larry nodded, missing the subtle undertone of Phoenix's comment, and agreed, "Uh-huh! Banish the zombies, Edgey! Stand up to the vampire lord! You got this, man! We need to star you in some big things!"

"What? More horror?" Phoenix asked.

"I was thinkin' more like a porn."

"Ah. Ehh." Phoenix shook his head. "I doubt that he'd go for that."

"Excuse me?" Miles asked daringly. He would tear into them if they weren't careful with their next choice of words.

Phoenix cleared his throat but offered nothing in response while Larry – unable to pick up on Miles' mood shift – started to say, "You know, get a lovely lady and fu – OW!"

Larry couldn't finish his thought since Phoenix forcefully kicked his shin. Missile jumped at the sudden commotion and ran behind Larry to sniff him.

"What the hell, man?" Larry shouted as he leaned against the door and rubbed his injury with Missile putting his nose against it.

"Quit being a baby. It didn't hurt that much." Phoenix rolled his eyes. "If you completed that sentence, my kick would've been higher."

"Dude! You straight up punted me! Jeebus!"

Miles watched the pair with a face unchanged. Phoenix at least grasped that last suggestion went too far for a joke, though he resulted to violence as a first tool to silence Larry. Phoenix whistled, then said, "So, Larry, How's Julia doing? She come back after White's hearing?"

Easily distracted, Larry said, "Oh, yeah. She called me and set a date. We're doin' lunches again once she's back home. She's an amazing woman!" Larry went very lovestruck on Miles and Phoenix, then went inside – presumably to daydream. In a follow up investigation, Phoenix found her phone on White's desk. Unfortunately, that left Larry waiting on her to contact him until she retrieved that device.

"I should probably check in with Ruby." Phoenix mumbled.

Their entire conversation gave Miles another angle to work with, though. He was curious about Phoenix's lack of decent camera captures. "You went to theatre for a reason, correct? Have you performed stage plays?"

"A handful of times." Phoenix said.

"Any of them on film?"

Phoenix shook his head with an accompanying, "Nope".

"I was hoping to see one of your performances." Miles said

Phoenix twisted his face, tempted to say something. He just went with it, damned be the consequences, "I'll give you a performance later, Miles."

"You two are children."

"Sorry – it was there. I couldn't help it."

Miles rolled his eyes, "I know better than to live with you. You would not keep those thoughts to yourself, Wright. I am not setting myself up for that."

"There's plenty of room for you, though. It's meant to be a family home."

"And I take it that offer is also extended to Larry, if he wanted a place to live?" Miles tested those waters.

"Pft. No. Why would I offer that to Larry?" Phoenix laughed.

"Ah, so it really is extended to only me because you have ulterior motives."

"No. If Larry lived with me, I'd have to make sure _all _of my insurance polices are up to date. I'll probably come up to a destroyed house or bike, a flooded backyard, or maybe even a fire? Not gonna happen – no way. Besides, I know you shower on a consistent basis. I'm not convinced Larry does and I don't want that place smelling like unwashed man." Phoenix made a show of hurling.

The house was dark, but Miles remembered it being orderly and had a clean fragrance. Miles wanted to agree with Phoenix on choosing who boards with him carefully, but Phoenix then tacked on, "The ulterior motives are secondary."

"Yeah, I thought as much." Miles turned to the office door to hide a smile from Phoenix. He shouldn't encourage this but he found it amusing at the same time.

"Going back in?" Phoenix asked.

"I don't have a car until the windshield is repaired, which means I will have to solicit Larry for help. I am surprised that car is still in one piece, but he really needs to figure out a better situation. I will only rent for so long."

"True." Phoenix shrugged, then followed Miles back in with Missile. The golden boy cuddled up to the golden child, but the pair of lawyers cued in on Gregory's face scanning over the letters.

"Your father still has a way with words." Was all Gregory had to say.

"I'm sure." Phoenix said, moving his gaze to the television and watching the cartoons Larry tuned into.

Miles walked over and took a page, wanting to know exactly what was written on those letters. They were dated around the original court date – an anniversary, if Miles remembered correctly. The letters were nasty and venomous, or at least the first few handfuls were.

"They started screening content after a reform," Gregory said in response to Miles' growing disgust, "He couldn't get away with being so horrible through mail after a few years in."

'_You are the reason for ruining my life.'_ Miles read further down the page. Dennis ruined his own life; that had nothing to do with Phoenix.

'_I wish you were never born.' _

"These are," Miles glanced toward Phoenix's direction, then hushed. Gregory and Miles went to a different office and closed the door, "These are awful."

"Those voicemails and texts that he sent to Phoenix were just as bad. There was plenty of evidence to that nature. Why they let him send out those letters to the child he abused, I will never understand – but by the fourth letter, they are different in tone."

Miles flipped to the fourth page.

'_October 30__th__, 2007_

_Phoenix,_

_This time of year reminds me of your mother. Your mother was into spooky stuff, you know? Something about channeling ghosts and the family tradition. Goes to show how much you and her are so alike. You must miss her, huh? Sorry things ended that way but that's just how things are sometimes. She got sick and I didn't know what to do with you or that unfortunate aftermath – but I'm guessing your Aunt's doing everything in her power to replace Faine, huh?_

_Tell Savanah I said hi. I wanted to see your grandmas soon but they've all refused to meet me. Especially Nyx, but that was probably a given. Maybe Savanah will give me some of her time. Maybe you and I can figure out a way to put this incident behind us and enjoy this time of year again._

_Oh, that reminds me. Happy Halloween, Phoenix._

_~Dad'_

"He replaced outright abuse to," Miles shook his head – this letter angered him more than the verbal abuse.

"Manipulation. Trying to rewrite the events to his own favor. He attempted to misdirect his family into believing his lie."

"I doubt he truly want to rekindle."

"More like silence and control. Phoenix still does not want to read these, right?" Gregory asked.

"Correct." Miles nodded, then flipped to the final letter.

"It is probably better that way. Dennis' words can't warp his mind if he cannot hear them to begin with. If the courts find his behavior rehabilitated, we have to do all we can to keep Dennis from meeting Phoenix. I just hope that Annie and Phoenix are telling the truth about not reading these letters. She's right – he doesn't need this on his mind."

Miles nodded, then asked, "Who is 'Savanah'?"

"Annie's real name. She probably didn't like 'Anna' as a shortened name. I recognize 'Nyx' as Faine's mother, though. Nyx Will'O or 'Phoenix Will'O'. Faine said the name 'Phoenix' was passed down through her ancestral line."

"Odd tradition. Is grandma 'Nyx' still alive?"

"I am not sure. She lived in the Mitama Reserves, so it would be difficult to look up."

"Phoenix told me he visited a village recently – Kurain, I believe, the weekend before Fiona's murder. Crowning a 'Master' or something along those lines."

"Then he would likely know about 'Nyx'. Kurian is the head village of Mitama. Dennis, Savanah, and Faine all lived in the reserves at one point in their lives." Gregory concluded.

"Strange. Dennis writes about the tradition from a third party, if you look at his phrasing." Miles pointed out.

_Something about channeling ghosts and the family tradition._

"If I remember correctly, Dennis' father separated from his wife then moved out of the Reservations. He remarried and was deceased before Phoenix went to preschool, though his step-grandmother filled that role. Phoenix's step-grandmother was too ill to take him in, but otherwise had a decent relationship with her. I do not know about his biological grandmother."

"So, the Wright clan separated?"

Gregory nodded, "The Kurain teachings placed a high value on their female line and ignored the men. Grandpa Wright took Dennis to get him out of that environment – but Faine and Savanah grew up together in it – if I remember this right, they were raised by mothers only. Faine said she wanted out of that culture, so Phoenix wouldn't doubt his own self-worth. _It was easier to move into the Wright family than keep my own name._" Gregory remembered her saying.

"You don't think Dennis killed Faine because of that cultural aspect, do you?" Miles proposed as a possible motive.

"I can't say for sure. There might be resentment from their upbringing."

Miles left it alone for a moment, then turned to the final thirteenth letter.

'_November 20__th__ 2015,_

_Phoenix,_

_I am sad to say that we never spoke since this entire unfortunate affair started. It's hard to carry on a one-sided conversation, though that's not much different from when we were still living together as a family. But we can change that in a year and a month's time. Once my trial is complete, I will be a free man again. I would like to see you after my release so we can finally have our reunion done right._

_Hope you have a good Thanksgiving. I am thankful for all that I have – aren't you? I'll count anticipation for seeing you as a reason to be thankful in a few days, myself._

_See you Christmas 2016, my dear child. Have a wishlist ready – I'll let you know what's on mine when we see each other again._

_~Dad'_

"No. He will not get the chance." Miles stated.

"If we act now, we can start a restraining order." Gregory agreed, "We need to talk to Phoenix about that, at least. It's in our favor to keep these letters from reaching Phoenix. Pay attention to him – if he starts to question its contents, let me know. It's bound to get under his skin eventually."

"Right. Understood."

Christmas 2016… That was coming up on them in a hurry. That left them with a checklist and a time limit, though the Edgeworths were accustomed to it.

Notes:

Gregory really needs to show these dads how to dad, for real...


	28. Living Arrangements

The Recap and Moving Forward:

Date: August 27th, 2016

After the trial and Phoenix's return from supporting Ruby during her transition, did they return to normalcy. Phoenix did not mind it when Miles took Missile over there, since the yard and space inside gave him ample room to trot without much issue. Seeing the house with the lights on gave Miles a better appreciation of it, though those alarm systems needed to go. Miles detested setting off those ridiculous plastic otherworldly creatures.

Larry made up with his girlfriend, Jules, and Miles thankfully had not seen much of Larry. Phoenix showed Miles around while Missile ran around in the fenced in yard. They gave statements as to what happened the night White attacked them.

Phoenix eventually settled into an all-white room, adjacent to the dining room and entrance, sitting down on a couch facing a television set. While it was not exactly to Miles' tastes, the house on the inside was well taken care of and fully furnished.

"So, yeah, this is the house. There's plenty of room for a roommate." Phoenix smiled. Even after that whole ordeal and knowing about his father's letters, Phoenix relaxed. Gregory insisted that Phoenix was a time bomb, but Miles wasn't too sure. Keeping an eye on Phoenix would be easier if they lived together. If Phoenix disappeared or started showing behavioral signs, Miles could at least have a more accurate reference to go by.

"What will my rent be?" Miles asked.

"Don't worry about it." Phoenix replied, "You being here is more than enough."

"Wright." Miles frowned. His flirting was getting more brazen and Miles was started to get flustered by it.

"Ugh. Fine. Hmm. How about $500."

"You realize I pay double that, then some for an apartment. Be reasonable."

Phoenix lounged on his couch and raised his eyebrows, "Are you negotiating yourself higher? Is that how this is supposed to work?"

"I am not a freeloader. I want you to treat this seriously, Wright."

"Why? It's just living arrangements. . . . Oh, don't tell me you want to write up a contract or something?"

"Yes. I need it for my records." Miles nodded. "Let's just establish an agreed price so this can be filed today."

Phoenix left his mouth hang open before saying, "You are one strange cat, Miles. Fine. What do you think you should be paying?"

"Well, I would say at least $800. We also have to decide what my share of responsibilities are for utilities."

"That's unnecessary."

Half and half?"

"If you . . . want . . . You could pay a penny and I'd be thankful for it, y'know."

Miles ignored him, "So, the rent is $800 and the utilities are split evenly. Are there any additional clauses that you would specifically like to add?"

"Sure." Phoenix sat back up, "Let's talk about what happens if you miss a payment."

Miles side-eyed Phoenix, "Standard law requires you provide a grace period of thirty days before issuing an eviction, though it will never come to that. I will not miss a payment."

"I want to add a clause in place of eviction that I will take alternative non-monetary methods of payment in its place. Services, you might say."

"Ah. Wright. You should know as well as I do. What you're suggesting is illegal. You, as the landlord in this scenario, have an unfair advantage over me. Do not make me report you for sexual harassment."

"I never said what services." Phoenix back-peddled now.

"Hm. Well, I suggest we omit that phrase, at any rate." Miles smiled, "Anything else?"

"I guess not." Phoenix pouted. Miles loved that look on him. He sat on the recliner away from the couch and pulled out a stack of papers. "Very well. I will begin filling this out and I will then hand it over to you so you can sign."

"You had that prepared?" Phoenix asked.

"You are not the only one who can think ahead. There are two copies, and you will need to sign each over the landlord designation."

"I'll make you call me landlord." Phoenix grumbled.

"I am sorry? What was that?" Miles smirked.

"You're not going to milk this, are you? I don't wanna sign if you're gonna be like this." Phoenix folded his arms.

"It's for mutual protection of interests, as well as a record of housing for when I move out from here and need to prove I lived somewhere. I am entitled to this, just so we are clear."

"We could just get married and you'd be entitled to even more."

"Excuse me? Mr. Wright, that is a clear abuse of your power. Coercion, I would say. Perhaps this agreement should be dropped, and I will simply find somewhere else to live."

Phoenix sighed and shook his head, "You really are doing this, aren't you? Fine. Ruin my fun."

"Are we or are we not moving forward with the contract? Your choice, Wright."

"I hate you." Phoenix extended his hand, "I'll sign your stupid papers."

"Thank you. Do try to be on your best behavior." Miles gave him a stack.

"You got another pen?"

"What kind of attorney goes this unprepared? Tsk, Wright. Lucky for you, I do have spares."

Phoenix rolled his eyes, "This is my only day off. Give me a break. The nearest pen is in another room, and that's just too far to walk."

"Mmm." Miles gave Phoenix a pen, then began working on his copy. Miles held back laughter as Phoenix grumbled through the whole process.

"Why are there so many pages? This is redundant. It isn't necessary. Who's gonna care about this, anyway?"

"Are you quite finished, Wright?" Miles asked after completing the last signature.

"Yeah. It's done." Phoenix pressed the pages together.

"Good. Trade me papers. You still have to sign this one."

"Uggggh!" Phoenix growled overdramatically as they exchanged packets. This whole thing amused Miles very greatly. After another round of initials, dates, and signatures, Phoenix sighed again.

"Good. You should probably scan and copy that once more for your records before dropping it off."

"Hm?" Phoenix looked confused.

"You are the landlord, ergo it is your responsibility to submit the paperwork. As the tenant, I fulfilled my duties already. I would like a copy of payments each month as well, for both of us to keep track of."

"Uhhh." Phoenix looked at the paperwork. "You said you were filing it, though?"

"No. I said it needed to be done today. I never specified myself as the one who would do it. That is your responsibility, Wright."

"Wow. You're being an asshole today."

Miles brought out a checkbook, "This is first month's rent and the deposit. Since I am prepared, I have this receipt for us both to sign in acknowledgement that it's been paid."

"That's going overboard. You aren't dropping a $1600 check on me today."

"We both signed an agreement that says I am. I do not intend to defy what we both signed, regardless to whether you actually read what was written or not."

Phoenix didn't look reassured by that, "Can you even afford this?"

"I am financially competent, Wright. I budgeted for a move."

"Okay, okay. I'm not saying you're not - I'm just saying this is a lot of money to just," Phoenix waved his hand around.

"Your concern is appreciated, but not needed. If you do not file and deposit this, I will be very upset. I should start boxing up my apartment. Is it okay for Missile to stay here?"

"Yeah. I don't mind." Phoenix pursed his lips, "Hey. Mr. Edgeworth. I have a question for you?"

Miles' face pulled. He didn't exactly like that expression on Wright. "What is it?"

"If it's coercion and harassment to flirt with you, how would you legally weigh taking you out of the country for those trips we briefly talked about? I imagine that's out of the question now."

"I suppose I would just have to go on my own."

"That's a shame. Alright, then. Guess I'm off to file this." Phoenix went to call Missile in so Miles and Phoenix could leave the house and run errands. After Missile came inside and Phoenix shut the door, he smiled momentarily at Miles and walked toward the front of the house.

"We can discuss this more later, Wright."

"Sure. I'd hate to think that just because we signed some papers that our whole relationship should then be molded by it." Phoenix winked. "Sorry. I meant friendship."

"I can drive you around." Miles offered. His car was, thankfully, completely repaired.

"Sounds good. Hey, if you actually let me put in the 'service' clause, this might've counted. Now we'll never be able to explore that avenue." Phoenix laughed.

"Just get in the car, Wright." Miles shook his head, but he was still holding back his own amusement. He followed Phoenix outside, dodging the horrendous decorations and ignoring the screams that Phoenix purposefully set off, finding gleeful entertainment out of his setup once again.

Once they made it to the sidewalk, the neighbor across the street stepped out of her home. She was elderly, but spunky and energetic, evident by the way she yelled at the neighborhood children to, "GET OFF MY LAWN, WHIPPERSNAPPERS!"

"It's Oldbag!" One of the kids yelled.

"Quick! Before she catches us!"

"Y'know, when I was your age, werespectedoureldersandstayedofftheirlawns. If my father saw you kids, why, hewouldletyouhaveit! And don't you go forgetting it!"

"Good afternoon," Phoenix waved.

"Oh!" She walked over, "Can you believe the youths of today?"

"Seems a lot like the youths of yesterday." Phoenix whispered to Miles. "Yeah."

"Why, wouldn't you know it, last week there were a bunch of hoodlums out at night? Gerold's dogswereabarkin'! Can you believe it? Police and sirens everywhere? Whointheirrightmindsgoesrunningthroughpeople'syardsatnight? Yours got broken into! The youths of today are all criminals in the making, I tell you! Ah, ifonlyIcouldhavegottenmyhandsonthem! I'd - ah - wait, who is this?" Oldbag asked, taking notice of Miles for the first time.

Phoenix answered, "A friend of mine who's gonna be staying with me."

"Oh! Hello!" Oldbag offered her hand, "My name's Wendy. Pleased to meet you."

Miles shook it, "Miles Edgeworth." A cold chill ran down his spin as her cold fingers curled around his.

"Oh my, aren't you handsome? Are you an officer of the law like Gervais is?"

"Uh. Y-Yes, that's right." Miles gently tried to pull his hand back out the unusually longlasting grip, but Oldbag did not budge.

"Oh my. It has to be criminal how attractive you are!"

"Wait, no. I am an attorney." Miles corrected, realizing what he said did not match the truth.

"Oh, well! Still a man of the law!"

"Hmm." Phoenix spectated from afar, "Ah. We have to report in, soon. There will be plenty of time to talk later, though. If you are interested. We could do a tea sit-down sometime during the week."

"Oh, that sounds lovely," Oldbag took her hand back and waved her hands like a blushing high-schooler would. "You boys do good work. A true inspiration for allthosehoodlumsrunningaround. If I ever figure out who caused such a ruckas! Oh, they will begettingasterntalkingto!"

"Of course. As they should," Phoenix nodded.

"Well, I will be getting back to work, too. Call me later with that date!" Wendy Oldbag returned to her side of the road and Miles wordlessly entered his car and slammed the door. Phoenix followed in, sitting down very quietly and slipped his seatbelt on. Miles' hands were on the steering wheel, gripping it like he was holding on for dear life.

"So . . . That was Miss Wendy Oldbag . . ." Phoenix said.

"Uh . . . huh." Miles answered.

"Hmm. I think she likes you." Phoenix stated the obvious. Miles said nothing. He started the car and drove off. Phoenix tapped on the dash in front of him, then said, "Right. I - uh - never have seen her do that before."

"I am regretting this already."

"Right. I think we should avoid telling her that we're the ones who caused all those problems." Phoenix laughed nervously. Miles said nothing in response, then turned on the news. Phoenix nodded, then looked out the window, acknowledging Miles' need to process his shock.


End file.
